Driving on the Right
by Erin Ellis
Summary: Its the eve of the PokeCon, and yet all Ash can think about is boys. What a bummer... Rambling Ashcentric slashy goodness with grits. No, really. complete!
1. sweet

My friend asked for a sappy shishi fic. But this came out instead...  
  
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+ + +  
  
"Hey, my name's Ash, and I'm gonna be a pokemon master!" He grinned up at the   
girl, expectantly.  
  
+ + +  
  
"-That's- your pickup line?!" Brock exclaimed.  
  
"Shut up and let me tell the story," Ash snapped.  
  
+ + +  
  
She blinked a few times. "Uh... yeah," the pretty blonde said, rolling her eyes.   
"Like, didn't people stop doing that sort of thing when they were like, twelve?"  
  
Ash scratched his head, slightly dismayed. "Not if they're actually going to -be-   
one."  
  
She narrowed her violet eyes. "Right," she said, stretching out the word. "Well,   
you go on with being the very best that there ever was, or whatever. Hey..." and   
here she pulled a pink envelope out of her purse, "could you get this to that   
Spanish hottie I saw you traveling with?"  
  
"Spanish?" Ash said, puzzled.  
  
"Maybe he's from the islands. God, he's so exotic and sexy! You'll give the letter   
to him, won't you?"  
  
"Uh... sure." He pocketed the note in his jacket.  
  
"Thanks! You're a sweet little boy," she smiled, then wandered off.  
  
"Sweet... little -boy-?" Ash repeated, looking distastefully back at her.  
  
+ + +   
  
driving on the right  
by erin ellis  
one: sweet  
  
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Brock tried and failed miserably not to laugh. "Guess there are such poor judges   
of character -- to find you sweet," he snickered.  
  
"Thanks a lot for the support," the boy said, frowning. He looked thoughtful for a   
bit; then retrieved a small piece of pink paper from his jacket pocket. "This is   
for you, Mr. Spanish Hottie."  
  
Brock smirked, snatching the crumpled envelope and ripping it open in one fluid   
motion. "I knew it!" he crowed, beginning to laugh disturbingly.  
  
"What?? -You- gonna date her now? That's all that seemed to come out of this," Ash   
said sullenly.  
  
"Date her? Hells no. That same girl wouldn't give me the time of day last time we   
were in Vermillion. But I knew that once she got a look at the new and improved   
Brock the Rock" -- here he flexed, unimpressively, Ash felt -- "then she'd be all   
over me like white on rice.  
  
"Or like you to her last time you saw her," Misty interjected, walking to the   
pair. What are you two loiterers doing?"  
  
"Well, I was just showing Ash--"  
  
"Nothing," Ash interrupted, elbowing Brock in the belly. Retaliating, the older   
teen grabbed him and started whaling on Ash with a combination noogie-tickle   
attack, which Ash found himself unwill-- unable to escape from.  
  
"Call mercy... call mercy!"  
  
"Never," Ash grunted, batting behind him, trying to catch Brock off guard.  
  
Misty stared at them, nonplussed. "Don't you guys have better things to do than go   
at it all day?"  
  
Now that was an interesting thought. Except without the noogies. But... with   
Brock? Ash's face began to redden. "Uh, uh," he pontificated.  
  
"Feeling left out?" Brock said with smoothness he hadn't when he was fourteen.   
"There's plenty of noogie-love for you too," he said, dropping Ash.  
  
"Touch me and I'll kill you," the redhead threatened. The brown boy backed off.   
"What are you so happy for?"  
  
"Got another one," he taunted, flashing the offensively pink envelope. "I believe   
that makes... thirty? Or $150?"  
  
"Damn you."  
  
Brock's grin widened. "Sucks to lose, don't it?"  
  
"Shut up." She scowled. "Bet you won't get the next one."  
  
"You're on. $175 for me."  
  
"Ooh..." She turned to Ash. "Geez, I can't see how you can stand to spend time   
with this loser bonehead all the time."  
  
Ash blinked. "Brock is always nice to me if I'm nice to him, Misty," he said   
helpfully. "Ow!" he said as she punched him in the arm. "Hey!"  
  
"Don't worry, Ash," Brock nodded sagely. "Girls only hurt the ones they love."  
  
"In that case, I'd better never touch you again," she said, stepping on the teen's   
foot and smacking him upside the head.  
  
"Told you the ladies couldn't keep their hands off me," Brock said weakly.  
  
Misty hit him again. "I'm going back to the room. Try to be at the Pokemon Center   
in time for the conference registration," she sighed.  
  
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Ash murmured, waving as Misty turned to leave.   
He'd been looking forward to the PokeCon all year. Still, something seemed wrong.   
Chewing at his lower lip, he turned to his older if not wiser companion. "Hey   
Brock, what's Misty all sore about?"  
  
He gave a thoughtful look. "Did your mom ever tell you about the birds and the   
bees?"  
  
"Professor Oak told me about the pidgeys and the beedrills. I caught some!"  
  
"...Guess not. Well, lets just say that there comes a time in every woman's life   
where she goes through-- a change. This change takes place every month, and when   
it does, the girl can get very-- irritable."  
  
"Well, gee, then Misty must 'change' everyday!" Ash exclaimed.  
  
She hit him for that, too.  
  
"I am -NOT- irritable!"  
  
"Of course not..."  
  
"Uhh... my head..."  
  
+ + +  
  
Well, -that- had been unproductive. Ash frowned. He wasn't sure that he wanted   
Misty angry at him so much anymore. Well, sometimes it didn't seem like it could   
be avoided. But if he had a choice, he'd rather she be angry at him for things he   
did himself, not that Brock did. But then again, probably Brock had had to take   
the brunt of things Ash had done in the past.  
  
No, that wasn't it. The problem was that he hadn't gotten to finish with Brock. He   
wanted-- he needed to know-- about women. Because-- well, heck, if someone else   
asked him when he was going to get a girlfriend, he would scream.  
  
"I don't -want- a girlfriend," he muttered sourly.  
  
"Why not?" Brock had asked, completely confused. He wouldn't understand, would he.  
  
"Why? What's the point?"  
  
The taller teen had stopped, giving the same expression Mom had given when he'd   
asked her why blue was blue and why the sun shone. "It's... well... you don't want   
to be alone, do you?"  
  
"No," Ash said doubtfully, considering this. "But I'm not alone now. I'm talking   
with you. You aren't my girlfriend."  
  
"That's different," Brock said impatiently, running a hand through his spikes.  
  
"How?"  
  
"It-- it just is!"  
  
Realizing he would get no suitable answer, Ash gave up. "I still don't get what's   
so hot about girls."  
  
"What? They really aren't going to give you cooties, you know. But if you're   
lucky, you might get something else," he said with an expression that made him   
look really foolish.  
  
Come on, he wasn't ten anymore. It wasn't that girls scared him or disgusted him   
or anything like that... they just didn't interest him. Girls were boring. They   
were interested in clothes, or appearance, or--  
  
"Me," Brock grinned, flipping through his scrapbook-- or Girl File, as he liked to   
call it.  
  
"Or -boys-," Ash frowned, still sore over his earlier rejection. "What are we   
supposed to talk about? Why aren't girls interested in pokemon? Or at least   
movies, music, -something-. ...Are you paying attention to me at all?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. A pokemon girl. Why don't you go out with... eh... Sabrina? Too   
creepy. Duplica? Maybe not. Erika? No... she's mine," he grinned. Ash rolled his   
eyes. "Oh wait, how could I forget?"  
  
"No," Ash said flatly.  
  
"You don't even know what I was going to say," Brock griped.  
  
"I do. You'll ask me why not Misty when we get along as well as she gets along   
with anyone and she acts so much like a boy that she's tolerable."  
  
Brock paused. "Well, maybe not in so many words, but..."  
  
Ash sighed. He'd been over it again and again in his head over the past three   
years. Why not Misty? She didn't look -that- bad, she liked him well enough--   
they'd been together for so long. And maybe that was part of it. They were so   
close that they'd become-- too close. It felt almost incestuous. They were too   
close to take such a chance, loved each other too much to be 'in love' with each   
other.  
  
But, Ash being Ash, he didn't have any idea how to put these thoughts into words.   
So instead he shrugged. "Why don't you do it?"  
  
Brock wrinkled his nose. "It'd be like going out with my dau-- er, little sister.   
You guys are like my family."  
  
"Exactly. So why are you pawning her off on me?"  
  
"Well hell, somebody ought to have her."  
  
Approximately at this point was when Misty appeared fuming in the doorway, yelling   
something about not wanting to be treated like a piece of meat. Ash laughed later   
on. Like anyone would want to eat Misty. At the time, though, he'd just yelled in   
pain as she whaled on them both. He guessed they had hurt her feelings, but she   
didn't have to be -that- rough... She should be happy they were concerned about   
her well-being, right?  
  
Ash told her so, luckily wording it better than in his thoughts for once.  
  
"Really?" she said, softening. "You just wanted me to be happy?"  
  
"Sure," Ash nodded. "I mean, its not like you wanted to go out with either of us,   
did you?"  
  
Oops. Her face froze for an instant, and even Ash knew he had hit home.  
  
"Of course not! Talk about bad ideas," she snapped. All right, -now- she was mad   
because of him. It was somehow reassuring.  
  
"Misty," he began, trying to smooth things over. Brock looked worriedly between   
them.  
  
"What?" she barked.  
  
Ash... backed down. It was too close to the PokeCon to risk death. They'd   
straighten things out later, he promised. "Um... Why are yo-- er, I mean, what do   
you need?"  
  
"I was just coming to see if you wanted to go to registration together." Her tone   
hinted that all of this was a past tense.  
  
"Well, I'd like to go with you," Ash began. Maybe he could salvage... something.  
  
"Me too, if that's all right," Brock piped up, looking sheepish.  
  
She looked down, for an instant looking very sad and un-Misty-like. "Fine," she   
said finally. Her face looked tired, and Ash inexplicably felt a pang of guilt.   
"Actually, why don't you two go ahead, and I'll catch up with you?"  
  
"You sure?" Brock said.  
  
"Yes," she grunted, a bit of the old fire back in her voice. "Go on... that way we   
won't have to wait in line as long. Or I won't, anyway."  
  
"Geez, Misty," Ash said, sticking out his tongue. But he made sure to give her a   
smile before he left the room.  
  
Now -this- threw a wrench in things. He could only hope that the one she really   
wanted to be with had been Brock. Much as he loathed to say it, Brock was a lot   
more the dashing, manly type that she seemed interested in than Ash was. He meant,   
Brock was tall, dark and handsome, and the squinty-eye thing could be interpreted   
as kinda sexy, if you tried hard. Sure, it was less than he bragged, but he had   
been working out, and his arms were kinda... yeah. Comparatively, Ash was kinda   
skinny and awkward, and cute, definitely he felt he could compete on a cuteness   
factor, not that he was feeling defensive or anything, but otherwise...  
  
Yes, and this was good because it meant it was Brock's problem and not his. She   
had to have unrequited Brock-lust, not Ash-lust. Pity, really... seemed that Misty   
was having just as poor luck with men as he was.  
  
Oh, wait.  
  
"Ah, so -that-'s the problem," Brock said, an understanding look lighting his   
face.  
  
Uh, had he said that aloud?  
  
"Yup," Brock nodded. "Why didn't you just say you didn't like chicks? All my   
talents gone to waste."  
  
"I did tell you I wasn't interested in girls," Ash said, still a bit shaken over   
his unintentional outing. "Besides, I didn't say I didn't like all girls, just not   
any of the ones I've ever seen." He decided to withhold any comment on Brock's   
'talents'. Ash looked away, then back to the other teen, making an effort to look   
him in the eye. "This isn't.. this isn't going to change anything, is it? I mean,   
I know what you... I hope you don't hate me now." Blessedly, Ash allowed himself   
to flee the gym leader's scrutiny, dropping his gaze and hugging his arms around   
himself, taking a step against the wall of the hallway.   
  
Wow... how had everything blown up around him? He really hadn't thought all that   
much about his feelings towards girls and boys, including them in the ever-growing   
category of Annoying/Troubling Things That Weren't Pokemon, a convenient place to   
put all the thoughts he didn't feel like dealing with for a while, like ever. Now   
both Misty and Brock hated him now; Pikachu had already run off with some other   
pikachu a couple hours ago. Maybe Team Rocket would come by and make the day   
complete.  
  
He wasn't looking; he was in fact, actively not looking up, but he couldn't miss   
the shadow thrown by his approach, the presence, the scent of the rock trainer   
drawing close -- very close -- to him. Maybe he was going to beat him up. That   
would be fun to explain to Professor Oak tomorrow...  
  
"Ash." The name was said solemnly, with finality. Guess it probably was the end,   
then. Ash braced himself for contact. He heard a brief sigh, then Brock had a hand   
on his chin, pulling Ash's face to his, then his lips (warm!) were upon his.  
  
That was unexpected.  
  
Ash lifted his arms to pull clos-- no, to push the teen away, but instead his arms   
were heavy and unresponsive. After the briefest of eternities, Brock finally   
pulled away, an odd expression on his face. Actually, it was probably no more   
strange than the one Ash himself wore.  
  
"Uh, Brock... just because I like a guy doesn't mean that I like -you-..."  
  
Brock scowled, sticking out his tongue. "Trust me, the feeling is mutual. What the   
hell did you eat today? You didn't look like you were going to listen to reason,   
so I figured I'd show you."  
  
"Show me what?" The messy-haired boy was completely puzzled.  
  
"That I don't care if you're gay. Brock the Rock must be fair to everyone," he   
said, loftily. After a quick debate, Ash decided not to further pursue that train   
of thought. "Sorry for pushing you into feeling you had to have a girlfriend. I   
know how painful it can be. I just wanted to make sure that you were spared my   
teenaged years, all of the sadness and rejection, from girl after girl, almost too   
much for a young, virile boy to bear," he cried, manly tears streaming down his   
face.  
  
Not the first time, Ash was happy the hallway was deserted. "Thanks for the   
concern, but--"  
  
"No! I will redouble my efforts! You won't have to be alone anymore!"  
  
Ash considered telling Brock that no, really, he was not in the immediate market   
for a mate, but it was pretty hopeless. Apparently the dark-skinned boy could be   
just as single-minded over men as women. "...Whatever. Let's get in line before   
Misty kills us for being late."  
  
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tbc.  
  
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[notes]  
  
+ I wrote this part back in February or so... future parts adhere a lot more to   
the 'shishi' part of the fic.  
+ "driving on the right" is something that Lucy will understand, but she'd hit me   
if I explained it. Hell, she'll probably hit me for using it at all...  
+ "sweet" is a song by Bonnie Pink. Actually, all chapter titles will be songs by   
Bonnie Pink. I like Bonnie Pink.  
  
[next]  
  
Less bouldershipping! More Gary! 'Snif' says the Brock fan (me), 'It's about   
damned time' say the people here for a shishi (you). And the PokeCon! 


	2. get in my hair

The Pokemon Convention was every Pokemon Master-to-be's dream; and if not -the-   
dream, -a- dream to anyone else who did anything related to pocket monsters.   
Easily reaching an attendance of over 20,000 people, the PokeCon had dealers   
rooms, extensive panels on anything and everything, separate sections for   
trainers, breeders and gym leaders; panels with tips for beating the Elite Four,   
pokemon as pets, the ever-popular pokemon showing circuit, and a very interesting   
cosplay... There were a lot of girls dressed as pikachus, but Ash always felt that   
the little animals should have more fur -- if he saw a real pikachu showing so   
much skin, he'd be appalled at the mistreatment. Breeder Brock never seemed to   
mind, strangely enough. Anyway, it was everything Ash had ever wanted in one   
place.  
  
As a former Indigo League competitor and Orange Islands champion, Ash was invited   
to speak on one of the panels. A.J., some girl he'd never heard of, Richie, and   
Gary were also there-- something about up-and-coming pokemon talents in the next   
year's Indigo League.  
  
"Well, looks like all but one will be people I'll be happy to see again," Ash   
claimed upon hearing the lineup. But in some dark place inside of him -- the Non-  
Pokemon/Feelings part -- he knew that wasn't quite true, unless he turned out to   
really hate the girl. It would be good to see Richie again, and A.J. had promised   
him a battle next time they met. But Gary... Gary was the unknown, Gary was the   
one deterring his almost single-minded devotion to being a pokemon master-- or at   
the very least, deterring his single-minded enjoyment of the PokeCon. Either way,   
Ash really didn't appreciate it very much.  
  
Case in point... the other night. Ash wouldn't lie; ever since they were kids and   
had changed from best friends to bitter rivals, he'd felt a certain something --   
not quite dread, since Ash was no coward -- but maybe... anticipation, yes, that   
was it. Because something about Gary always seemed to catch him off-kilter, always   
made him question whatever it was he was doing, and there wasn't much that irked   
Ash more than thinking about why he was doing something. So, nights before he left   
for home, or times when he knew he would have to clash with his rival, he tended   
to have bad dreams. Usually involving Gary-- sometimes replays of past meetings,   
always humiliating Ash, belittling him, surpassing him.  
  
This time had been different. Oh, he'd dreamt of Gary, all right. But instead of   
it being Gary showing him up through whatever knowledge or honors he'd gained   
since they'd last met, it was Gary stopping him from arguing with his lips on his.   
And on other places. He'd woken up sweating and breathless... and otherwise   
completely betrayed by his body.  
  
What the heck was that supposed to be anyway? He hated Gary, right? So then, why   
was he (his body, really; Ash denied all responsibility) interested in... mushy   
stuff with him? Why was the thought of Gary lying beside him, caressing him,   
enough to make him forget his enmity and add new things to the 'Not Pokemon' file?  
  
...Or at least, why wouldn't they just stay there?  
  
"Arrgh," Ash cried, throwing his head back in frustration.  
  
"Calm down, it's not -that- long a line," Brock fussed.  
  
+ + +  
  
driving on the right  
by erin ellis  
two: get in my hair  
  
+ + +  
  
Brock smiled. "We're almost at the fifteen more minutes sign."  
  
The younger boy rolled his eyes, embracing the change in thoughts. "You're only   
enjoying being in line because the registration person at the end is Nurse Joy."  
  
"Hee hee..." ...Guess some things you don't grow out of. Respect as a friend and   
trainer aside, Ash honestly hoped he would never, ever act like Brock. "You know,   
the Nurse Joy in Vermilion is the loveliest of all."  
  
"You say that everywhere we go. Besides, I thought you'd decided once and for all   
that Joy from Pewter was your favorite."  
  
"Well, that was before she put out that restraining order..."  
  
"What?" Ash was dismayed (but not entirely surprised) to see that Brock wasn't   
joking. "So that's why you've been spending so much time in Pallet?"  
  
"No, no, that's just to see you... and your lovely mother." Ash always hated it   
when Brock mentioned his mom and grinned in the same sentence, especially since it   
tended to happen often. "Anyway, it wasn't too much of a problem until they   
stopped sending Officer Jenny to enforce it..." He stuck his lip out in a pout.   
"Those male officers aren't any fun at all."  
  
Ash opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Sometimes you scare me, Brock."   
Hopefully Misty would show up soon.  
  
"Ah, you're funny, Ash. Nurse Joy's registration is only fourteen short minutes   
away..."  
  
"Oh man..."  
  
+ + +  
  
Misty had eventually joined them, though was useless for what Ash had needed her   
for; she showed up when they were literally the second people in line for   
registration. She -claimed- that she'd been watching a movie and gotten caught up   
in the story; Ash wasn't sure what Misty was doing watching TV when she was   
supposed to be waiting in line with them. Brock had said to calm down, defusing   
the situation before another fight broke out. They'd split again to kill some time   
before Opening Ceremonies that evening, though Ash had a sneaking suspicion that   
Misty just wanted to avoid them some more... and Brock just wanted to annoy him.   
Both were doing a good job.  
  
"You know, Brock," he said none-too-sweetly, "you can go wander around yourself.   
Don't feel like you have to hang out with me."  
  
"No, no trouble," he waved off. "Sitting here in the lobby is a great place to   
people watch."  
  
It actually was. The lobby of the con hotel was huge, with vaulted ceilings and   
marbled floors, a large, glassed-in area housing a sizable amount of flowering   
tropical plants donated from the Orange Islands gyms, and sets of very cushy   
armchairs (much like the ones the pair were relaxing in) scattered about. From   
where they sat, one could watch people coming from registration, wandering through   
the plant-life, activity at the banks of elevators leading to people's rooms, and   
the hallway leading to the convention center, where some events had already begun.  
  
Ash himself felt strangely uneasy, and waffled between checking out what pre-  
convention events he was possibly missing, and sitting in the oh-so-comfy chairs.   
It would be good to just sit here and relax... of course, that was hard to do with   
Brock grinning at him like that...  
  
"So," Brock said, slapping him on the back. "You ready?"  
  
"My trainer panel isn't until Sunday," Ash replied.  
  
"No, not for the panel, for -him-."  
  
"Him who?" Ash was terribly confused.  
  
Brock sighed, then seemed to start over. "Well, it'll certainly be great to see   
Richie again."  
  
"Yeah, it's been a long time. I wonder how Sparky's doing?"  
  
"And Tracey'll be around."  
  
"Oh? I thought he was minding the lab for Professor Oak. I hope all the pokemon   
will be fine by themselves..."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Brock said idly. "Okay... A.J.... to see him and his whip   
must be interesting," he continued, voice full of... something.  
  
The shorter teen wrinkled his nose. "Sounds painful... I still have some issues   
with training pokemon like that."  
  
"Hmm," Brock said, deep in thought. "Falkner? Otoshi? Bill? You -were- talking   
about those cosplayers before..."  
  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
  
"The guy you like."  
  
"Wha-a-at?!" How the heck had this become the topic of conversation? And, Ash had   
to say he was a bit insulted by some of the choices. Like he was supposed to fall   
for every guy he came across? Who was he, Brock?  
  
"It.. it isn't Snap, is it?" Brock said, looking somewhat ill.  
  
"Aaugh, no," Ash shook his head.  
  
"Then who? Who do you like?"  
  
Good question. "Uhh..." Ash looked up from squirming uncomfortably to see... him.  
  
It was sunset, and from where Ash and Brock sat, they had a beautiful view of the   
sun shafting pinks and oranges through the clouds. And so it was almost in   
silhouette that he saw a particular couple come from the greenhouse area to the   
sunken lobby, but Ash knew it was Gary anyway. Who else always arrived at the   
right -- or wrong -- time? Who else would have such a ridiculous haircut, such a   
smug glint in his eye, such a pretty girl on his arm? Who else would notice Ash   
directly after he'd noticed him, and come over to gloat?  
  
Something churned in Ash's chest that felt uncomfortably like jealousy. Gary's   
escort was pretty, with short auburn hair and smoky blue eyes, and looked like she   
was probably in college. Man, if Gary liked older women, then what would he want   
with younger men?  
  
...Oh, this was bad. This was bad for a whole lot of reasons, though strangely   
enough, the one that seemed the most immediately pressing was that in taking the   
time to think about it, he'd choked up, and now Brock would be making fun of him   
in a minute, or otherwise doing something that might bode ill for him.  
  
"It's her!" Brock said, eyes lighting up.  
  
"Huh?" Ash grunted, shaken from his reverie. His taller companion was grinning   
like a fool. Had Ash thought 'might' bode ill? Try 'would definitely'.  
  
"May Oak. Watch me make $175."  
  
"May Oak?" Ash repeated dumbly. "But May has long hair and is a lot shorter and   
cute and likes to kick people."  
  
"That was ten years ago, Ash," Brock said, exasperated. "I'm sure its possible   
she's gotten a haircut since then. And she's still cute. I think its time to turn   
my girl winning-over streak to thirty-one," he said, voice smug. Running a hand   
through his spikes (which seemed to do absolutely nothing), he gave a self-assured   
smile and walked to where Gary and the girl-- rather, he and his sister were   
standing together.  
  
May Oak. Suddenly, the pressure in Ash's chest seemed to decrease by a million   
percent. Some part of him was feeling annoyed that that one fact -- what girl was   
with -Gary- -- had any sway over his feelings, but it was getting used to being   
ignored by this point. Shaking his head again, Ash stayed a distance from the   
trio; he was always tempted to gag while Brock "worked his magic", and perhaps if   
he didn't move, Gary wouldn't come and talk to him. Hey, it worked for T-Rexes.  
  
May and Brock conversed for a bit, then wandered off, the teen taking an   
opportunity to turn to Ash and mouth 'thirty-one' behind his back. Ash made a face   
that quickly changed to a grimace... Misty wouldn't be happy about losing again,   
and would probably take it out on him. Life was perverse like that. And in other   
ways as well...  
  
"Oh, Ashy-boy," Gary singsonged, making a show out of noticing him and sauntering   
over. Ash scrambled to his feet; the older teen was tall and lanky, standing   
nearly a head over Ash once he'd approached. Man, howcome Gary had to beat him in   
everything? His voice had even dropped an octave or two. Ash, on the other hand,   
still squeaked from time-to-time, to his friends' great amusement.  
  
"Hey there." Great, now what? 'Why are you talking to me,' he did not ask. You   
should be civil to people you dream about, right? "So, uh, where've you been?   
Haven't seen you around Pallet lately." That was good, Ash congratulated himself.  
  
Gary shrugged. Ash had never noticed how broad Gary's shoulders were. Did his own   
move that smoothly? "I've been in and out, around. If you weren't avoiding me, you   
would've known."  
  
"A-avoiding you?" Ash didn't feel like giving credence to the statement, since   
analyzing the truth might give him an answer he certainly didn't want to hear. "No   
way, -you've- been avoiding -me-." Oh wait, civil. Darned defense mechanisms.  
  
"And why would I possibly do that?" Gary asked, amusement in his voice.  
  
Uh... "Because you're afraid."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Of me beating you in a battle," Ash answered matter-of-factly.  
  
"So, I'm afraid of you beating me, when you've never been able to even come   
-close- before," Gary trailed, eyebrows raised.  
  
Ouch. Gary: one, Ash: negative a bazillion. "Yeah, well... well, you don't want to   
break your streak," he finished lamely.  
  
"Obviously you've been taking your clever pills," Gary sneered. "Where're your   
little shadows? They're always good for a laugh or two."  
  
So much for being friendly. Somehow Ash had known this would happen, and was happy   
for it. It was so much easier to react to Gary when he was being hostile. "They're   
my friends, and you just saw one of them. Where's -your- little entourage? Too   
cheap to pay your cheerleaders today?"  
  
He snorted, making it an elegant gesture; a slight arching of his fine eyebrows   
coupled with an exaggerated wrinkling of the nose that seemed to accentuate its   
shape. "Eh, girls are a hassle. Too needy. I got rid of them years ago."  
  
Ash stopped, looking at his rival strangely. "So, you don't like girls?" he asked   
(not hopefully, really; please not hope in his voice).  
  
The older teen's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at, loser?"  
  
"Uh, nothing," Ash backpedaled. Great job, big mouth. "Um, I guess I'll see you at   
the panel Sunday. Yeah." He surreptitiously stepped backwards, scratching the back   
of his head and laughing nervously. "Hey, look over there, it's Team Rocket!"  
  
"Where?" Gary turned his head, and Ash took the opportunity to bolt from the   
lobby. That hadn't particularly gone well. Of course, considering the situation,   
he wasn't sure what 'well' actually counted as anymore. He needed to sit down and   
think, sort everything out.  
  
Why did all this thinking have to come during the Con? How annoying. Maybe he   
could just ignore it and it'd go away.  
  
+ + +  
  
It didn't. For the rest of the day, Ash's thoughts kept drifting to a certain   
auburn-haired rival, who had become considerably more annoying, in spite of-- or   
perhaps because of becoming considerably more hot. And the more he decided not to   
think about it, the more he did. He couldn't concentrate on the League director's   
speech during Opening Ceremonies. He barely ate anything for dinner. He'd hardly   
noticed when Brock and Misty had left for some gym leader's meeting, and then had   
sat through two identical panels on the value of pokemon grooming and fashion   
before giving up and going back to the room.  
  
He ended up cross-legged on the bed, his favorite pajamas not giving him very much   
comfort. Oh, man. What a day. Not only had he discovered he liked guys, he   
discovered he liked Gary Oak, of all people. This was why he tried not to pay any   
attention to his feelings. Nothing but trouble.  
  
"Pi, pika," Pikachu said, patting him on the back.  
  
"Thanks, Pikachu..." he pulled the little animal into his arms. "You're the only   
one who ever seems to understand me. You'll always be here for me, right?"  
  
"Ka chu, Pikapi!" it burbled.  
  
"Aw, Pikachu," Ash said, squeezing it tight. The electric rat smiled and wriggled   
out of his arms, scampering through Brock's legs as he entered the room.  
  
"Um, was that supposed to happen?" he asked, concerned.  
  
Ash gave a smile that looked more like a frown. "Well... Pikachu always comes   
back... right?"  
  
"Of course it will," Brock smiled kindly, ruffling his hair. "Oh. You weren't at   
the meeting, not being a gym leader, I guess... Misty had to do something with her   
sisters, but she'll be coming in later, so you'll have to scoot over, since I'm   
not sleeping on the floor."  
  
"Hey! Why don't you sleep with -her-?"  
  
"Think about that statement. She kicks hard, you know," he said, from experience.  
  
"But," Ash began, really not in the mood for company.  
  
"Let me have the side with the alarm clock, because the breeding panel's really   
early," he interrupted. "I'm gonna take a shower, in case you need to use the   
bathroom."  
  
He didn't, so Brock entered, and the muffled hiss of water and Brock forgetting   
not to sing in the shower when others were sitting in their pajamas, ostensibly   
trying to go to bed could be heard. Geez, how inconsiderate... busting in and   
making a lot of noise when he was trying to get some good thinking done. Now that   
he thought of it, Brock was taking his own sweet time in there. Really, how much   
was there to do in the shower? His (cursed!) imagination began, seeing the youth   
standing there, rivulets of water coursing through the brown spikes and defining   
the slight muscles of the slender, pale body...  
  
Wait. That wasn't Brock. Crap.  
  
This was going to be a long night.  
  
Oh, man...  
  
+ + +   
  
tbc.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
[notes]  
  
+ Did anything happen in this chapter? Oh yeah, Gary. I told you he'd get here   
eventually... He'll be back later, though he's always in Ash's heart, awww... er..   
uh.. yeah, anyway.  
+ tyrannosaurus rexes can't see you if you don't move. So, if you don't want him   
to eat you, stand still. Unfortunately(?) for Ash, Gary is smarter than a t-rex.  
+ I know I said only three chapters, but this one was too long so I split it, and   
now there's a bonus epilogue-y thing as well. Five's not a bad number... (This one   
would have been out earlier, but it took two days(!) to find an mp3 of 'Around the   
World' by move. Damned Initial D music.  
+ Is it just me, or does Misty get the shaft in this story? I don't hate her, so I   
hope the story doesn't seem like I do...  
  
[next]  
  
Saturday is always the longest day of a convention. Being trapped amongst crazed   
fan-types for so long tends to grate on the sanity. Perhaps that explains Ash's   
actions next chapter, or it could just explain mine. Featuring both Richie and   
Team Rocket. Woo woo. 


	3. thinking of you

Okay, here's where things start(?) getting weird. Lucy... sorry in advance.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
"Prepare for trouble!" Jessie crowed from her perch atop the stage in the main   
convention room.  
  
"And make it double," James purred, posing seductively beside her. They were both   
wearing quite fetching minidresses, in blue and pink, respectively.  
  
"Team Rocket!" Ash stated the obvious. "You guys must want to steal all the   
pokemon from the convention. Well, I'm not gonna let you do it!" Pikachu leapt to   
the fore, cheeks crackling with electricity.  
  
"Nn-nn-nn," the female Rocket scolded, waving a finger. "I don't think you want to   
electrocute us... unless you want to hurt our hostage too." She flicked a glance   
over to James, who led a third figure out from behind him. She wore a bag over her   
head and a matching purple minidress, and was tied to James by the waist. "Any   
shock to us will travel through that metal wire. Now hand over that pikachu!"  
  
"Never!" He reached for a pokeball, but had none. Oh no, they must still be at the   
Pokemon Center! Well, time to take matters into his own hands. He rushed the   
stage, untying the knot and grabbing the hostage. "Oof." She was heavy...  
  
"Hey, he's mine," James cried, dismayed.  
  
He?  
  
The hostage removed the mask, revealing Gary. "Hey there, Ashy-boy."  
  
"Uh..." Ash said, at a loss. "Nice legs."  
  
"Pi pi -pi-!" Pikachu insisted.  
  
"Oh, right. Go ahead." Grinning unhealthily, Pikachu let out a mighty   
thundershock, blasting Team Rocket off again. Sometimes Ash worried about it...  
  
"Ash, thank you for saving me. You're so brave," Gary gushed, glomping the younger   
teen. The dark-haired boy couldn't really say anything, his head buried against   
Gary's chest. Oh well, there were certainly worse positions to be in. "Now," Gary   
said seductively, "let me give you a hero's reward." His hands began to creep down   
his sides.  
  
Ash's voice caught. "G-gary..."  
  
"Oh, Brock," replied a horribly high falsetto.  
  
+ + +  
  
Ash wished he could say he woke up screaming. Instead, he woke up pressed against   
Brock's chest, with the older teen mumbling incoherently and drooling into his   
hair. -That- was when he started screaming. Then Misty chucked the alarm clock at   
his head, and it was back to blessed unconsciousness.  
  
+ + +  
  
driving on the right  
by erin ellis  
three: thinking of you  
  
+ + +  
  
When Ash woke again, it was to a mild electric shock. "Wha-- Pikachu? What the--"  
  
Pikachu and Richie stood at the foot of the bed looking sheepish. "Sorry, Ash, but   
you were pretty deep asleep," the human said, "and I didn't think you'd want to   
miss the '2 B A Master' panel."  
  
"Eh? Augh," the dark-haired boy cried, finding the clock upside down on the   
opposite pillow. It started in ten minutes. "Misty!"  
  
"What?" she snapped, poking her head out of the bathroom.  
  
"Move it," he yelled, pushing her out of the way and slamming the bathroom door.  
  
She stumbled forward, turning and banging at the door. "Ash Ketchum, you'd better   
get out of there right now!" She gave the door a last kick, then whirled, crossing   
her arms and sitting on the bed. "Hey, Richie," she greeted, noting his red face   
and closing her robe a little tighter.  
  
"Um, uh, hi," he blushed.  
  
"If I miss the secrets of becoming a pokemon master because of you Misty, you're   
in big trouble," Ash yelled, muffled through the door.  
  
"Well, maybe if you weren't screaming and carrying on with Brock all night, you   
wouldn't oversleep!"  
  
The brown-haired boy looked inquiringly at Pikachu, who just shook its head.  
  
"Wa... that wasn't me, that was him!" Ash blustered. "And if –you- didn't think   
the solution to everything was blunt trauma, I would've been up -early-!" He burst   
from the bathroom, seething. "How could you--"  
  
"Um, Ash?" Richie began, gaze directed lower than his friend's face.  
  
"You forgot your pants," Misty gave a withering stare. "Moron."  
  
Ash popped back into the bathroom. An instant later he reemerged, fully dressed   
this time, stuffing his hat onto his head. "Richie. Pikachu. Let's go." He stomped   
out of the door, the others following at a less angry pace.  
  
"See you, Richie, Pikachu," Misty said sweetly. "Sorry Ash made you late."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"Um--"  
  
*slam*  
  
*SLAM*  
  
"Er, have a good one, Misty," Richie said to the closed door.  
  
+ + +  
  
Misty could never be told that the best part about the '2 B A Master' panel was   
getting breakfast afterwards. Richie had actually volunteered to grab a bite   
during the session (probably because Ash's stomach was growling louder than the   
speakers), but Ash refused to miss a second of potential secrets revealed. Shaking   
their heads in some sort of pikachuian communication, Pikachu and Sparky had run   
off mid-panel. Ash wasn't quite sure what to think of that... it was good that   
they were friends, but maybe Pikachu needed to learn some discipline. Without the   
tips given on the panel-- okay, to be perfectly honest, it was pretty much common   
sense -- take care of your pokemon, make sure you win badges, etc. Who knew that   
they wouldn't say anything he didn't already know? Maybe Gary...  
  
His rival had never showed... Ash wasn't sure what to think about that either.   
Hmm, less competition was always good, right? ...But maybe he ditched because he   
knew something Ash didn't, and was someplace with better tips... No, calm down;   
Richie tended to know what was going on, and would keep Ash straight-- er,   
wouldn't let Ash go ignorant.  
  
Anyway, after looking at the prices of the hotel restaurant, they decided to go   
off campus; there was a little diner about four or five blocks from the convention   
center that Richie knew of, so they went to check it out. It was small, dark, and   
the waitress sounded like she'd smoked three packs a day for the past twenty   
years, but they made the best pancakes Ash had ever tasted (he ate four or five to   
make sure). His counterpart had an egg over easy and a bowl of grits, claiming it   
was more than enough food for him if Ash wanted to try some. Yeah right... "What   
the heck is a grit anyway?" he asked, looking disapprovingly at the steaming bowl.  
  
Richie chuckled, shaking his head. "Ash, there's no such thing as one 'grit'.   
They're named because the texture is a bit gritty, I think. But they're good.   
They're made of some grain, and you heat them up, sortof like Cream of Wheat or   
oatmeal. Except grits aren't sweet-- you put in salt and butter, or cheese, or any   
number of things. It's good, it's good. You should try it!" He offered up a   
spoonful, the rather lumpy substance glooping back into the bowl.  
  
"...That's okay," Ash replied, trying not to look too dismayed at the vague   
explanation to the unappetizing food. "I'll stick to things you can eat in the   
singular."  
  
"Aw, it's really not that bad," he said, demonstratively taking a bite. "Mmm,   
grits." He made an exaggerated grin, as if in a commercial.  
  
Ash stuck out his tongue. "So, what you been up to?"  
  
They spoke of various things; Richie had most recently visited the Orange Islands,   
taking time to train and visiting the league there. (Haha, Ash had already done   
that... er, not that they were competing or anything.)  
  
"Hey," Richie began, looking forcedly casual. "Do you... um... have a girlfriend?"  
  
Ash choked, torn between the desire to scream and-- well, it was screaming either   
way, either in frustration, or in surprised embarrassment. As it was, he gave a   
little yelp, then decided to chew his food before it ended up across the table.   
"No, he said in what he hoped was a normal tone. "I'm not really in the market for   
a girl right now." -That- was the understatement of the year.  
  
"Oh, good," Richie said, relief evident. "Everyone keeps telling me you've got to   
meet someone, or trying to set me up. It's so annoying. I mean, I've never even   
met a girl I liked that I could talk to. I just... can't seem to find common   
ground."  
  
This sounded oddly familiar. "Well," Ash stalled, wondering how he'd gotten   
himself into the position of love counselor. Now what was it that Mom always said?   
"Eventually you'll find that special someone. You'll meet them and things will   
just seem to mush. Er, match."  
  
"All right," Richie said, nodding. He exhaled slowly. "You're always so together,   
so I figured that if you didn't have anyone, it would be all right if I didn't   
either."  
  
Ash didn't think that anyone had ever called him 'together' before. 'Incredibly   
lucky', 'bull-headed', 'scatterbrained', those he'd heard; but 'together'?  
  
"It might sound a little strange," Richie continued, looking shyly at his   
breakfast, "but I've always admired you. Even when we first met, all those years   
ago. You had so much trust in your pokemon's innate abilities." Trust? Gary had   
said he was just too lazy to train them properly. "I envy that connection with   
your pokemon."  
  
Ash scratched his head. "Aren't you and Sparky really close?"  
  
"Of course, he's one of my best friends. But you and Pikachu are so close, you   
seem to share a mind sometimes." Gary had said that too, but said the mind was   
Pikachu's.  
  
"You know... I never really thought about it that way." Maybe Pikachu knew that   
there was no advice that would be good for how to deal with Gary, and that's why   
it hadn't talked with him last night! That was it! It was showing him that you had   
to just go out there and act! "I'm sure you can be a more personal trainer,   
Richie!" Ash smiled, eyes crinkling. "You've just got to think of pokemon as your   
friends first, and then as your pokemon second. Everyone knows that if you respect   
your pokemon, they'll respect you, but if you're a friend to your pokemon, they'll   
be a friend to you as well. I know you and Sparky can do it!"  
  
"A-ah. Thanks." A smile crept across Richie's face, tentative at first, but seemed   
to grow in intensity over his rosy cheeks.  
  
"Are you okay? You look a little flushed."  
  
"Oh?" he put a hand to his cheek, and flushed a deeper red. "I think I ate the   
pepper in my grits..."  
  
"Okay," Ash said doubtfully. "Hey, let's get back to the con. There're some things   
I want to take care of." They rose from the booth, going to the front register to   
pay. Ash's mind slowly began whirring on how to take action with Gary. Maybe there   
was something to this 'discussing feelings' stuff Mom kept talking about. "Thanks   
for talking with me, Richie."  
  
"I should say the same to you," the brown-haired boy exclaimed, handing the woman   
a couple bills. "I hope that I can-- well-- your words mean a lot to me," he said,   
looking away until the waitress nudged him with his change.  
  
He was red again... "You know, I don't remember seeing any peppers in your grits,"   
Ash said, confused.  
  
"Hey, we're going to be late to the next panel!" Richie announced, walking towards   
out the door. He laughed nervously, hand behind his head. Geez, Richie was acting   
weird too. Must be something in the air.  
  
+ + +  
  
The rest of the day was a lot more productive. Richie stopped changing colors, and   
they went to a couple more panels, then hit the dealers room. It was simply huge,   
and they spent longer than intended wandering the stalls. Richie found a cute   
'baby's first pokeball' ball that would be sure to embarrass his little sister   
(who even knew he had one?) when she grew up. Ash had saved up for a heavy ball--   
he didn't know what it would be, but he'd decided the next pokemon he caught was   
going to be big, so it was good to prepare. Then he figured he should get   
something for Misty, since she'd been feeling poorly earlier. Richie suggested   
some water pokemon bauble that was blue and shiny but still seemed utterly   
worthless. He seemed insistent though, and Ash didn't have any better ideas, so   
Ash went through with it. At least it wasn't perfume.  
  
Having spent enough money for now, the boys walked back towards the hotel. In the   
lobby, they ran into Ash's mother and Professor Oak. (Tracey wasn't –really-   
coming; Brock was a big liar.) Ash wasn't really sure why his mom was there; the   
professor had said something about cheaper room rates with two people, then Mom   
had blushed and smacked his arm, but neither really gave any explanation. Oh well.   
This way he didn't have to bring her a souvenir, right? They made plans to meet   
after tomorrow's panel and parted ways. Richie excused himself soon after, giving   
him his room number and telling him to call later. Ash ran back up to the room,   
where surprisingly enough, both of the others were present.  
  
"Hey guys, how's it going? Panels okay?"  
  
"Boring, as expected," Misty sighed. Oh, he'd forgotten he was mad at her from   
this morning, but she seemed to have forgotten as well, so it worked out. "The   
water training panel would be so much better if they'd let us have a full-sized   
tank."  
  
"I saw Suzie," Brock said, voice clipped. "She looked well."  
  
"Still with that other guy, I guess," Ash said sympathetically.  
  
"Whatever, I don't care," the dark-skinned teen returned, obviously lying. "I   
wasn't there alone, anyway. May wanted to go."  
  
The redhead's nostrils flared. "Oh? So she hasn't dumped you yet?"  
  
"Only in your dreams, darling. I'm sure she wants someone to escort her to the   
dance tonight," Brock said loftily, waggling his tongue. "You can keep Ash   
company, and I'll tell you what the adults did later."  
  
"I am so going to beat you up," Misty grinned, cracking her knuckles.  
  
The dance! Previous to yesterday, he'd spent his time alternately trying to ignore   
it and complaining about the lack of panels during its duration. But now... Gary   
would be there, and, confused as he was as to why, Ash wanted to be there with   
him. Take action! ...But Gary would never do anything like that.  
  
But maybe...  
  
+ + +  
  
Pikachu had come by during their late lunch (Mom brought them sandwiches for a   
picnic! she was so cool), and was giving him a funny look between munching on   
apples and being fawned over by his mother.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Pikachu?" Ash asked, scratching that place between its   
ears it really loved.  
  
"Ka chuu, Pikapi," it said, giving him a disapproving look.  
  
"You don't think it'll work?" he said, sadly.  
  
The tirade Pikachu broke into was interrupted as his mother offered it a ketchup   
packet, luring the small pokemon away from Ash.  
  
"Well, I think you're wrong," Ash said defiantly, setting his chin.  
  
"About what, honey?" Mom asked, idly stroking Pikachu's fur as it devoured the   
ketchup.  
  
"Um... nevermind. Misty... do you have a minute?"  
  
+ + +  
  
Now Ash knew why he'd gotten that gift for Misty. Unfortunately, once he'd   
presented the box, instead of being pleased, her eyes narrowed and she wanted to   
know what he wanted. Geez, she was so cynical... just because he only -seemed- to   
give her gifts when he had some ulterior motive didn't actually mean that was the   
only time he -would- give her one. Of course, it didn't help his protests that he   
did want something. And, it didn't help what that particular something was.  
  
Incidentally, Misty had taken the news he was gay surprisingly well.  
  
"God -damn- it!"  
  
...considering it was Misty.  
  
"Please?"  
  
Misty shook her head vehemently, arms crossed. "I -said- no way. There are just so   
many levels of why this is wrong that I don't even want to talk about it."  
  
"But Misty..." Ash trailed, looking desperately at her. "Hasn't there ever been   
anyone who you liked and you didn't know why? And so you wanted to find out, so   
you did something really stupid to be with them?" Misty continued to frown, but   
was silent. Ash came closer, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder. "I just   
want a fair shot-- to talk to Gary without all of our history getting in the way,   
but I can't do it alone. I wouldn't even ask you-- I wouldn't tell you about it if   
it wasn't important to me that you know. You're my best friend, Misty. I know it's   
a lot to ask, but... please. Help me with this. Help me with him." He stopped,   
nothing more to say. Both were silent for a while, Ash hoping his cute expression   
would crack her stone face. Hey, had to use whatever assets one had.  
  
"I'm not letting you wear my best dress to the dance," she said finally. "I'm   
wearing it. But..." here her voice softened. "You can wear the skirt combo I was   
going to wear for the panel tomorrow. I'll borrow something from my sisters."  
  
Thankfully, Ash made no comment on how a garment of her sisters' would hang on her   
body. Instead, he pulled her into a warm hug. "Thank you so much, Misty."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've done some stupid things for guys too." Her voice was unreadable   
over his shoulder, and Ash knew not to pry. "All right," she said, all business.   
"Well, if I'm to change you to Gary's dream girl," Ash thought this last was   
spoken rather more snippily than necessary, but whatever, "then we'll have to do   
something about that hair."  
  
+ + +  
  
Through maybe ten gallons of water and twice as much gel, Ash's hair had been   
coerced into two smooth ponytails at the base of his neck. Misty's outfit was more   
of a problem. While in no way a large person, Ash was bigger than Misty, and her   
clothes really did not fit him. Of course, he didn't realize this until he'd   
already gotten her blouse half-on.  
  
"Take it off, you're going to rip it!" she shrieked.  
  
"I don't think I can," he said, muffled by fabric. "I'm stuck."  
  
"You'd better not really be stuck, or you won't live to see the dance, much less   
Gary!"  
  
Through a lot of yelling and yanking, they got the tiny shirt off, only minorly   
worse for wear. Well, he'd actually had to promise that his mom would sew up the   
(barely noticeable, really) rip in the seam the minute they got back to Pallet, if   
not earlier, but other than that, no problems. After a brief argument over the   
relative merits of dressing as a woman, going to the dance, and Gary Oak, Brock   
showed up with a small suitcase of women's clothing, which he presented to Ash.   
Questions concerning its origin were met with an enigmatic smile (he later claimed   
it came from his family, who were elsewhere at the con, but who really knew).   
Either way, diplomatic relations between Ash and Misty began anew, and they ended   
up choosing a shimmery cyan top, with some wide-legged trousers, and a long black   
sweater-coat that tied across the chest.  
  
"The black slims, and the line of the jacket keeps your shoulders from looking too   
square," Brock explained, knowing perhaps too much about the subject.  
  
Ash had just shrugged uncomfortably; they made him wear a bra and it itched. Brock   
had argued that Gary seemed to enjoy girls with curves, but Misty rallied hard for   
the lesser-endowed. They compromised, so Ash didn't have to be quite so   
voluptuous, but he still felt like he was going to attack something with his   
chest. Maybe Misty -had- lucked out in not having any breasts. She hadn't seemed   
to value the sentiment when he'd voiced it, however.  
  
Of course, the clothes weren't the end of it... Misty and Brock soon began   
flipping through girl magazines looking for Ash's "ideal look" for makeup. Yuck,   
he hadn't thought all this much into it when he'd come up with the idea to dress   
as a girl. "I think I've gained a new appreciation for James," he murmured.  
  
"Hey, what about this?" Misty pointed to a specific picture, Brock nodding   
vehemently. "I think it'll go well with his eyes."  
  
"Yes, very classy," Brock agreed. "Oh, is this the newest issue of Seventeen? I   
heard that Howie from the Backstreet Boys was stabbed by a jealous ex."  
  
"Yeah, that story's in here; pretty racy, you should check it out."  
  
"Definitely."  
  
"You guys are such freaks!" Ash exclaimed.  
  
"...Says the boy in drag. I think -you're- the freak here."  
  
"-Everyone- here is a freak. We're at a damned con!" Misty smacked both boys with   
the magazine, then opened it back, clipping Ash's hair out of his face. "Pass me   
my compact, will you?" Brock did, and she started smoothing a cream over Ash's   
face. It was cold. "Stop twitching!" she cried.  
  
"I always wanted to be in a boy band," Brock commented, voice far away.  
  
"Why?" Ash tried to put as much disdain and ire into the word as possible.  
  
The teen shrugged. "Dunno. It'd be neat to be famous, get to travel, get to   
perform. Legions of screaming fangirls wouldn't be much to complain about either."  
  
"God help us all," Misty said, rolling her eyes. She worked quickly and   
efficiently, doing his makeup with a minimum of fuss, though she seemed offended   
when he refused to let her near his eyes with an eyeliner brush. Finally, she sat   
back, calling Brock over to view her work.  
  
"What?" Ash said, wary.  
  
"Look," Misty instructed, leading him to the mirror.  
  
He did. Peering back was a raven-haired girl, thick lashes framing wide brown   
eyes, baby pink lips in a friendly smile. "Hey, I'm pretty cute!"  
  
"Yeah, you really don't look like you at all," Misty smirked. "What a beautiful   
job I've done with you. Don't think I'll ever forget this." As if he could... he   
knew from experience how long the girl could carry a grudge.  
  
"Oh, let me get a picture with our widdle sweetheart," Brock cooed, pinching Ash's   
cheek. "They grow up so fast..."  
  
"Knock it off," he snapped, knocking his arm away. Misty actually took a couple   
pictures, and Ash scowled for all but one-- he'd probably be blackmailed with them   
anyway; he might as well look pleasant.  
  
"Now, don't get too full of yourself; those are still partially my clothes you're   
wearing, and they'd better not turn up on anyone's floor but mine."  
  
"Misty!" both boys yelled, horrified. "If I've taught him anything," Brock said   
self-righteously, "it's to always hang up your clothes before bed."  
  
"Augh, I don't want to think about Ash and-- oh God, I already have," she moaned,   
clawing at her eyes.  
  
Ash sighed, face blazing. "Don't worry, Misty, I'll be a good girl."  
  
"You have no idea how disturbing that promise is."  
  
"Hey, ready for your first test?" Brock grinned.  
  
"I'm ready for my first drink," the redhead muttered, rubbing her temples.  
  
"Test? Drink?" Ash parroted. How did he end up the clueless one to his own plan?  
  
"Richie's having a room party, and we're going."  
  
"'We'? You didn't tell him--"  
  
"Oh no," Brock grinned. "But he'll probably figure it out when baby cousin Ashley   
shows up."  
  
The transvestite looked searchingly to the sky. "So, not only am I humiliating   
myself in front of my friends, but I'm related to –you-?"  
  
He spread his hands, expression open. "Hey, it was your idea. Besides, no one'll   
mess with you if you're with me."  
  
"It's also the only plausible explanation as to why Brock wouldn't be hitting on   
you himself," Misty said dryly.  
  
"Gary would never be able to compete with Brock the Rock," he said, rolling with   
the insult. "Be happy I don't like younger women, or else Gary would just take one   
look at me and give up."  
  
The younger two exchanged a look. "...Yeah. Ash, when Brock returns from the land   
of make believe, tell him to get ready. I'm gonna return this stuff to my sisters'   
room; I'll meet you at Richie's. It'll be less suspicious that way. See you later,   
lovergirl," she smiled, letting in Pikachu, then leaving herself.  
  
"Pi... Pikapi?"  
  
"Don't ask," Ash sighed.  
  
+ + +  
  
tbc.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
[notes]  
  
+ hmm, wrong 'shi'. Oops... (lucy: die erin die)  
+ what was Ash/I thinking? Well, even Mom said it: everything's funnier with men   
in drag. (of course, there's an exception to every rule...)  
+ eh... I think that's the end of Team Rocket in this story. I've also realized   
there is no Togepi. Maybe that's why Misty is so swoll. Well, the thing's evil   
anyway... no great loss. :P  
+ this could be the only pokemon fanfic involving grits. I try to hit those tough,   
timely issues.  
+ thanks so much for the positive reviews. You have no idea how much they've   
encouraged me. Brightened my day and gave me a reason to live and other warm and   
fuzzies like that. If you haven't already (or even if you have) you can feel free   
to leave reviews. It's the 'in' thing to do. ...uh, yeah.  
+ forgive the delay; I have successfully moved back in with Mom (temporarily,   
thank God), with no casualties other than a slightly squashed disk and a nasty   
looking cut on my thumb (my own fault, don't ask). It doesn't seem to inhibit   
typing, so expect chapter four... eh... expect a chapter four. ^____^; And just   
for you, since it was a longer wait, I've given you a longer chapter... all I had   
to do was refuse to cut out scenes that didn't advance the plot. How can you   
complain about that? (uh... don't answer that.)  
  
[next]  
  
Everyone knows that the epitome of an anime con is the dance. I mean, even if you   
went to all the panels, you spent hours volunteering in the video rooms, you   
braved the fanboy smell to get through the dealers room, it's just not the same   
until you shake what your momma gave you to anime songs with a four-four thumping   
bass. Stir that pot! Shake those maracas! Watch skinny would-be raver kids attempt   
to bludgeon you with glow sticks on strings! ...What? The PokeCon isn't an anime   
con? Uh...  
  
[next (revised)]  
  
Party at Richie's! Yeah, that's it. And Gary! Lots of Gary! I'm not lying this   
time! Really! 


	4. lie lie lie

Today's episode of (japn) Pokemon involved the evil green thing that Satoshi   
hatched being possessed by an unown and going through severe psychological trauma   
that needed sensitive hero As-- er, Satoshi to solve by cracking the beat-over-the-  
head symbolistic shell of his hatred towards humans through electricity and fists.   
This chapter of 'driving' is almost exactly like that, except with a lot less   
angsty green pokemon, symbolism, trauma, electricity, and giant togepis. There is,   
however, the requisite commercial for Pokemon noodles.  
  
+ + +   
+ + +  
  
  
Three minutes later, Ash's buoyant mood had begun to flag. "Brock-- what am I gonna   
do?"  
  
The taller boy rolled his eyes as he primped in front of the mirror. "First thing,   
calm down. Your name is Ashley Slate. You're my cousin from outside of Fuschia   
Town. Nobody lives out there, so you shouldn't get many questions."  
  
"Right. Okay. Got it, Pikachu?"  
  
"Pika..." it said amusedly.  
  
"Actually, Pikachu, you'd probably better not go-- it'll be too suspicious if a kid   
named Ash with a pikachu shows up."  
  
"Sorry," Ash said. "Well, uh, see you 'round, then." Somehow he felt slightly naked   
without Pikachu at his side... but he had to be strong. Pikachu was counting on   
him!  
  
"I'll keep tabs on any good dirt for you," Brock grinned to the animal. "Ash. Keep   
your key and con badge in your pocket. All other personal details are up to you.   
Try not to lie too much so you won't forget. Be general. Don't act like a guy,   
don't act like a kid, and don't mess up. I've put too much into this to fail now,   
Ash! We must be victorious!"  
  
"Wow, Brock... Do you really think this will work?"  
  
"Honestly? I'm thinking crash and burn. But it'll be entertaining either way, so   
why not help out?"  
  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence..."  
  
+ + +  
  
driving on the right  
by erin ellis  
four: lie lie lie  
  
+ + +  
  
Ash checked his breath and made sure everything was in place, and Brock knocked the   
door. After a second it swung open, the smiling face of Richie just behind. "Hey   
Brock, glad you could make it. And who's this?"  
  
"This is my cousin Ashley. The rest of the family's out with the children, so I   
thought I'd show her around the con. Ashley, this is Richie."  
  
"How do you do?" Ash said in a passably female voice.  
  
"Um, hi, I'm Richie," the brown-haired boy flushed slightly. "Come on in." Richie   
or his parents (who, like most family of people Ash knew, may or may not have   
actually existed) had splurged on a suite, so in addition to having a huge king   
bed, there was a table and chairs and a couple small couches scattered about the   
large living space. These were all filled with young folks, some of whom Ash   
recognized, more who he didn't. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to pass here after   
all.  
  
"Here, cuz, let me show you around." Brock led him through the groups of people,   
introducing 'Ashley' to some, but passing by others. Ash was certain that Duplica   
was giving him a funny look... he smiled faintly and moved closer to Brock.  
  
"How about I get you a soda?" Brock said helpfully, and before Ash could make any   
protests, the taller boy had left him, in search of actual females, most likely.  
  
Great. Now what was he supposed to do? He hadn't seen Gary during their case of the   
joint, and everyone else he knew to talk to, 'Ashley' had probably better avoid.   
Geez, if it were possible for him to feel more out of place, he'd be pretty darned   
surprised. Ash just didn't -do- parties, especially not while wearing women's   
underwear. ...Wow, that sounded even worse than it actually was, if possible.  
  
"Ah, uh... Ashley, was it?" Someone tapped his elbow, and Ash jumped, almost   
knocking over Richie's proffered plastic cup full of snacks. "Would-- would you   
like-- Um, want a chip?"  
  
Oh dear.  
  
+ + +  
  
He knew someone was going to sing out an 'I told you so.'  
  
"So, what happens when you run into trouble?" Misty had asked.  
  
Ash had blinked. "Trouble? What do you mean?"  
  
"For example, someone you know starts making a scene; you have to actually prove   
you're a girl. Gary calls you on something. Your mom finds you out. You know,   
trouble."  
  
"Please stop saying that word... I keep thinking Team Rocket's going to show up,"   
Brock had interrupted.  
  
Ash had frowned. He was perfectly justified to dress up as a girl to catch guys,   
right? If he absolutely had to, he meant. And he did. Really. So of course the   
correct response was righteous indignance. "Why don't you understand that I'm going   
to do this? I told you I'd fix your shirt, is there something -else- you want from   
me?"  
  
She'd given him a pointed look as she rifled through her magazine. "Yeah, I want to   
make sure -you- understand what you're getting into, and how hard and how long   
Brock and I will laugh at you if we have to get you out of it."  
  
Ash had snorted. "Whatever. I've got things under control," he waved off. "I know   
what I'm doing."  
  
+ + +  
  
"So, that's how I caught a lapras only using low-level rock types!" Richie finished   
triumphantly.  
  
Yup, Ash knew what he was doing all right... being bored to tears. Really, Richie   
was his dear friend, and they'd laughed over some of the exact same stories just a   
few hours before-- actually, perhaps that was part of his frustration.   
Alternatively, it was the fact that he couldn't very well counter "Yeah, I had a   
lapras too and we wandered around the Orange Islands together" without blowing   
Ashley's cover story before it had even had a real reason to be used. Either way,   
nowhere in Ash's plan for the evening was 'get the long version of Richie's every   
exploit', and it wasn't turning out to be an exciting bonus. However, keeping   
Richie talking about himself seemed to avoid the still more painful Making Small   
Talk, and the longish silences that seemed to pepper each event. Who'd have thought   
such a nice guy would have such trouble talking to the opposite sex (as it were)?  
  
"Oh, was... was that okay?" Richie asked (again), sounding as if he'd run over   
someone's cat, not told a slightly boring story about a slightly difficult task.  
  
"Yeah, no problem," Ash giggled half-heartedly (again), wondering when it was   
polite to run away screaming.  
  
"Oh!" the boy exclaimed, brightening (again). "Ah, uh, maybe-- maybe I could do--   
could tell one more?"  
  
"Um," Ash replied, failing at not squirming uncomfortably.  
  
"Is this guy bothering you?" broke in a familiar, deep (though still somewhat   
nasal) voice. Like some sort of guardian angel -- if angels could be smug jerks who   
wore leather -- Gary Oak appeared. Never before had Ash been so happy to see   
someone. He leaned over the couch between Ash and Richie, giving Ash a winning   
smile which changed to a disdainful sneer once turned to the other boy. The   
brunette wilted, excusing himself and hurrying off to some other corner of the   
room. "Now that's better, isn't it?" Gary smiled again.  
  
A small part of Ash wanted to tell him that it was pretty mean to humiliate someone   
at his own party, but a bigger part replied that it was stupid to insult the person   
who saved you from dying of boredom, especially when you've been waiting for them   
all night in drag. "Thanks," he said weakly.  
  
"No problem," he waved off. Ash noted Gary had changed clothes from earlier today;   
he now wore a purple and black baseball-style shirt made from some shiny material,   
and black leather pants.  
  
Hold on.  
  
Who the heck wears leather pants?  
  
Since when did Gary wear leather pants?  
  
Since when did Gary look good in leather pants?  
  
"Ah... nice pants," Ash said, shamefully having troubles looking away from them.   
"You wear those all the time?" Oh yeah, there's some sweet talking. What kind of   
line was that?  
  
"Nope, wore 'em especially for you."  
  
Was it possible to choke if you weren't drinking anything? No? Then Ash guessed he   
wasn't choking, but it was close. "That's... nice," he managed.  
  
"What, you don't like them?" Gary was mock put-out, turning around and showing off.   
Leather was soft and shiny and body-hugging, and Ash was finding little complaints   
with the idea of hugging this particular body. ...Oh no, he was beginning to think   
like Brock... he was in trouble already.  
  
"No! No... just a little surprising. Looks great." Understatement. He'd dreamt of   
leather pants. Reality was not a disappointment.  
  
"Well, coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." He jumped the back of the   
couch to land beside him. "Gary Oak," he said, sounding rather suave.  
  
"I'm Ash-- Ashley Slate," he saved.  
  
"I know." He smirked at Ash's expression of surprise. "I make it a point to know   
the attractive people at every function." Now Ash blushed deeply. Gary sure was   
good at spreading on the charm. "A pleasure."  
  
Ash stuck out his hand to shake, but Gary took it palm-down in his, and kissed his   
hand. Ash could feel heat prickle his neck, as he politely returned his hands to   
his lap. He'd kissed him! On his hand, yeah, but still..! Was Gary hitting on him?   
He thought Gary was hitting on him! This was just crazy. Ash felt giddy. This was   
so much different than their exchange just a few hours earlier.  
  
+ + +  
  
And it wasn't like he hadn't tried. He had actually run into Gary that afternoon,   
wandering around through another panelless hour.  
  
"Oh-- hey," he'd stuttered, slightly embarrassed to have seen the teen, especially   
as he'd been... thinking about him.  
  
"What now, Ashy-boy?" Gary had eyed him archly, that same smug, challenging look   
that Ash had always been sorely tempted to wipe from his face. Of course, the exact   
method of doing so had decidedly changed of late, and Ash had reddened at the   
thought.  
  
"Enjoying the con?" Geez, he wished he could come up with something clever to say   
for once.  
  
The teen's expression had shifted slightly, though there was the same amount of   
disdain. "As expected, there really isn't anything here worth my time. These panels   
and workshops, while good for beginners and amateurs, are pretty worthless to   
anyone who knows what they're doing. If not for my panel tomorrow, I wouldn't have   
come at all."  
  
"Maybe you shouldn't have," Ash had snapped automatically. "The PokeCon is a great   
way to exchange ideas and information about pokemon training, breeding, and   
everything. If you don't like it, it's not like you were asked to come."  
  
"Actually, I was," Gary had replied nastily. "Though, I suppose if they'd invite me   
to the same panel that you're on, it probably wouldn't be much of a loss to skip   
either."  
  
Clenching his fists, the dark-haired boy had visibly restrained himself from   
leaping at Gary and having it out. "Why don't you just not show up then? It's not   
like anyone will miss you or anything."  
  
Gary had twitched; that had been what affected Ash the most; the look in his blue   
eyes dark and roiling. Wresting his mouth into something barely controlled, he'd   
stared at him, a cutting gaze that almost looked hurt. "Just leave me alone,   
loser," he'd said finally, turning and walking off, hands stuffed into his pockets.  
  
"But I was lying," he'd failed to say, as well as anything else to halt him. And   
then Gary was gone.  
  
He'd seen him again a bit later, but he'd been talking to someone, some girl, some   
friend, some admirer, who knew. But he'd looked happy, and Ash had retreated   
unnoticed, angry with himself. He hadn't been able to stop himself from arguing,   
from deepening the chasm between them, and that had been exactly what he hadn't   
wanted to do.  
  
+ + +  
  
Now he had the complete opposite-- Gary seemed more than willing to talk to him. Or   
more. And oh boy, more...  
  
--But. He couldn't just go crazy here. Hitting on -Ashley- wasn't doing anything   
for -Ash-. And he had just wanted to -talk- to Gary, right? ...Of course, that was   
before the leather pants... oh man...  
  
Uh oh, silence; something he had learned from Richie that he must avoid at all   
costs. "Gary... you're on that trainer panel tomorrow, right?" Geez, what had   
posessed him to bring that up?  
  
"Yeah. You planning on going? Your hands feel like a trainer's. You have some   
pokemon of your own?"  
  
"You could tell that just from k-- from touching my hand?" Ash examined his own.   
They looked the same as always to him, save the painted nails. (There -was- a way   
to get rid of that stuff, right?)  
  
Gary chuckled. "You're not a typical girl, are you? You've got slight calluses on   
your palm, like what you'd get from throwing a pokeball. You train a lot?"  
  
So observant. That must be how he got all the good pokemon. Ash would have to be   
really careful. "When I have time. I love pokemon, and helping them reach their   
full potential. I know that if we train hard enough, my pokemon and I can be the   
best we can, and do anything!"  
  
"Like be a pokemon master?" Gary said, amused.  
  
"Uh," Ash pontificated, trying not to completely freeze. "I... guess that's a   
possibility. I never really thought about it much." Hopefully that sounded somewhat   
believable.  
  
"Really. You know, you really seem familiar. Have we met before?"  
  
Yarg. "Well, um, you could be thinking of my cousin Brock, you might have met." Ash   
angled his head towards where the dark-skinned boy was talking to a group of girls,   
including Misty, who was sitting with her head buried in her arms. He squinted his   
eyes, doing his best Brock impression.  
  
"I see the family resemblance," Gary deadpanned.  
  
"Yeah... you know us Slates. A little bit different than the norm," he laughed   
nervously. Couldn't they please change the subject?  
  
Gary snorted, a strange expression on his face. "Maybe the hoppip of humanity...   
pretty worthless, but some people find them kinda cute."  
  
"A hoppip?" Ash confirmed, not liking it any more the second time, despite   
concentrating harder on the 'cute' part versus the 'worthless'. "I want a better   
pokemon than -that-. It takes more than a strong wind to make me go away," he said   
stubbornly, feeling rather pleased at how deep he sounded.  
  
Gary raised both eyebrows, leaning back and appraising him. Ash wondered what he   
saw... a mildly attractive girl with too much interest in him? A fool in drag? Or   
just another warm body, someone useful for passing the time and that was it? It   
actually frightened him, how much he was curious, how much he wanted a good opinion   
from someone he'd fought with for the past however many years.  
  
"So," Ash began shyly. "What honestly do you think?"  
  
"An unown," Gary replied, wiping an invisible smudge from his pants. No, no, look   
at his face, he's still talking. "Don't know their powers, don't know their type,   
don't really know anything about them until you battle them or capture one."  
  
"I'm that much of a mystery to you?" he said, a bit dismayed.  
  
Purple-clad shoulders shrugged. "We've only met today, right?" Was that mocking in   
his tone? "I guess you've got more insight? What pokemon do you think I'm like?"  
  
Ash considered, scratching his head. "Well... maybe... a sandslash. Because it's   
powerful. It's got a hard shell that's pretty tough to get past, but inside, it's a   
solid, good pokemon. ...And it's spiky."  
  
"Spiky?" Gary said with dismay, touching his (finely styled?) coif. "Guess with   
your cousin, you would know."  
  
"Ho ho ho," Brock approached, laughing mirthlessly though pleasantly, something   
which sounded better before Ash had tried defining the thought. "My hair is a   
carefully crafted pinnacle of style. You, Mr. Oak, have a Sonic the Hedgehog/bed-  
head thing going on," he defined, then clapped his hands down on Ash's shoulders   
hard enough to make him jump. "Ashley, dear, I was just letting you know that I'm   
leaving. I expect I'll see you at the dance later on," he grinned. "Now, don't let   
him get fresh and always remember you're a -lady-." This he whispered into Ash's   
ear, though it was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear clearly. Ash was sure   
this was intentional.  
  
"Yes, -Mom-," he growled, face blazing.  
  
"Ta-ta," Brock grinned, patting his head before walking off.  
  
"Geez..." Ash smacked his hand to his forehead. "Sorry you had to hear that. It's   
like he gets some perverse pleasure from teasing me."  
  
Gary chuckled, placing his arms on the back of the sofa. "Well, it's not like it   
happens all the time."  
  
"Yeah, only like every day," he said sourly. "Why doesn't he ever pick on--"  
  
Uh oh.  
  
"Every day?" Gary said casually. "I thought you said you lived in Fuschia Town." He   
left the rest unsaid, but he didn't need to elaborate. The image of Misty rolling   
on the floor in laughter flitted through Ash's head.  
  
"...I do. Brock calls, or one of his brothers... they all look the same." A rough   
save, but Gary dropped it, and that was all that mattered.  
  
"Okay, so with a gym leader in the family, do you feel a lot of pressure to be a   
pokemon trainer?"  
  
"Not really pressure. My mo-- my folks don't really mind whether I go or not," he   
answered truthfully. "But I've always been interested in pokemon, and I hope I can   
do well and not disappoint them." He smiled, emboldened. "What about you, Mr. Oak?   
How is it being related to one of the greatest minds in pokemon academia today?"   
Ash spoke with a tinge of mirth, but more honest curiosity. In all the times he'd   
actually sat down and really thought about it (times admittedly few and far-  
between), he honestly couldn't imagine what it'd be like to be related to Professor   
Oak. Tracey would have probably offered to bear his children by now, for one... Ash   
decided against asking Gary if he'd yet recieved the offer, especially considering   
the dark expression that had flickered over his face at the words. "Is... is   
something wrong?" Ash said timidly.  
  
Gary stiffened, beginning one remark, then interrupting himself with another.   
"Actually, it's pretty annoying to have people always asking about your family all   
the time instead of you. Sometimes you get sick of playing second best, sick of   
playing catch-up, sick of your own achievements being notable only as a comparison   
to others'. Sometimes..." and this last was whispered away from him; Ash wasn't   
certain he was meant to hear it, "sometimes I don't think I ever -can- catch up.   
Sometimes I don't think I'm meant to."  
  
He paused and Ash said nothing, absorbing this revelation. What... was he saying he   
felt overshadowed by Professor Oak? ...Or someone else? ...Oh, come on, Gary Oak,   
feel unconfident? This was the guy who showed up to some random party in leather   
pants. You've gotta have self-confidence for that (among other assets...). Ash   
shook his head. "I don't understand."  
  
"You wouldn't, would you," he said oddly. "Sometimes I want to go away somewhere,   
and see how long it takes anyone to notice. But then, I suppose no one would miss   
me." Ash's head snapped up at this, the words from their earlier exchange stabbing   
at him. He couldn't have taken that to heart... could he? Ash could feel him   
mentally backing away; physically.  
  
"No, Gary." He placed a hand on his arm, staying him. Ash wasn't exactly what   
anyone would call a 'sensitive guy', someone in touch with the feelings of himself   
or others, but he could tell this was probably something important, and they should   
talk or something. He couldn't let him pull away now. "Help me understand. Or if   
you don't want to talk about it, then let's change the subject. Just don't--" He   
stopped, realizing he sounded rather pathetic.  
  
Silence for a beat, auburn hair a shield from his gaze. Ash still stung; he had   
never imagined that Gary might have worries; even when they were children, Gary had   
always seemed so together...  
  
Oh wow. That line was familiar... and he was just as wrong as Richie had been. More   
wrong. Who didn't worry about something sometimes? If Ash hadn't Misty and Brock,   
Tracey and Richie to talk through his problems with, who knew what he might be   
like? So, of course, Gary talked to... who? Ash had often seen Gary alone, but for   
an instant, he saw him as -lonely-. And that was a frighteningly illuminative   
thought. What if that was what Gary had wanted back then? Someone to pull him out   
of his shell, to squeeze out his insecurities, and then comfort him? Ash hadn't   
done that; hadn't tried. He'd thought Gary cold and distant, and they grew apart.   
What if instead, Ash could've...  
  
No. 'what if's were pointless. This was now and maybe Ash could salvage something.  
  
When Gary turned back, his face was back to a carefree mask. "Don't worry, it's not   
a big deal. I'm used to it by now... I've been used to it for years. You do an   
admirable job of sounding penitent, even if you aren't," he smirked, humor somewhat   
returned.  
  
"I am too penated, or whatever," Ash shot defensively. "You have a problem with me   
being here, talking with you?" Not for the first time, Ash was afraid of the   
answer.  
  
Gary lazily stretched back, arching an eyebrow, though his body seemed slightly   
tensed. "You're getting awfully agitated. You tell me."  
  
"Fine, I will." It took effort not to just throw out some insult; to unclench his   
fists. This wasn't what he ws here for. And while arguments were a convenient   
crutch, he'd felt better sitting pressed against Gary on the couch, pretending to   
have a quiet corner in the middle of the party. He sighed, considered running his   
hands through his hair but thankfully remembered it had been gelled into   
submission, and were he to touch it he may never detach said hand from his head.   
"Come on, let's do something," he said, standing.  
  
"Like what?" Gary queried, not moving.  
  
"I dunno," Ash shrugged. Actually he did know, though it surprised him-- he wanted   
to explore the feelings he'd stupidly only just realized Gary had; he wanted to   
have a heart-to-heart and have Gary rely upon him like he'd relied on Gary when   
they were children. He wanted to know what Gary wanted and needed and to become   
that thing. He let all of this play over his face in the hopes that Gary might   
breach the subject again. But he didn't, and Ash didn't know how. "Just walk   
somewhere, move somewhere -- I mean -- if you still want me around," he said,   
suddenly shy.  
  
Gary made a show of considering, then nodded, taking Ash's outstretched hand. Ash   
steadied himself to support the other teen's weight; he figured he'd just help him   
up-- then he was yanked, falling forward. "Gary!" he yelped, cursing himself as   
much as his companion. How many times as children had he done this? Ash would offer   
to help Gary get his balance, and Gary would turn the tables, making him lose his   
own.   
  
...But this was slightly different. Instead of the drop to the floor or getting   
caught in a headlock or whatever he usually ended up in, he was just balanced   
there, one arm braced against the seat back, the other hand still in Gary's. Ash   
could see the swirling emotion in his deep blue eyes, see the slight sheen on his   
lips as he licked them (consciously? he would, conceited jerk), and could barely   
breathe. Oh man, he was turning into one of those sappy losers from those stories   
Misty didn't know he knew she read.  
  
For once, Gary had no knowing smirk, no words, sour or otherwise, and Ash was left   
floundering. It was fine and good feeling attracted to someone even if it was   
another guy who was your biggest rival who hadn't seemed to like you since you were   
eight, but actually -doing- something about it? Not that he wasn't curious, or   
hadn't dreamt it already... Now that the pants were taken care of, he wondered how   
Gary would really look in a dress... But no, there was no time for that, his blood   
was pounding and the world seemed to focus on the one, his one beneath him, though   
that could have just been a lack of oxygen-- oh yeah, breathing, forgot about that-  
- but even his warped and unromantic sense of timing knew it was time for something   
to happen, and his eyes half-lidded even as he knew that this probably wasn't a   
good idea or even if it was maybe not right here or right now and he sure hoped his   
breath was okay and--  
  
"Ashley?" Richie attempted, tapping the transvestite on the shoulder. Jerked out of   
his reverie, Ash whirled to face him. Of course, due to a mix of breathlessness and   
surprise, he didn't quite account for the fact that he was coming from a strange   
angle, and he ended up flinging himself into Richie, the pair knocked heads and   
went crashing to the floor.  
  
Uhh...  
  
Faintly, Ash heard barely muffled laughter, even as he felt Richie's breathing   
quicken atop him. "Are... are you okay?" he asked, too dazed to look.  
  
This reply was muffled too, though it seemed to be coming from a lot closer. Ash   
finally raised his head. "Richie..."  
  
Of all the-- Geez. He was trapped in a boys' manga story-- except he wasn't the   
boy. While Ash himself had run into part of a chair or discarded shoe or something   
else that would probably make his back sore for the rest of the weekend, Richie had   
done a great job of breaking his fall with Ash, and now was lying red-faced, head   
cradled in Ash's rather ample chest. Oh come on, Richie, they weren't that   
exciting; they weren't even real.  
  
oh wait.  
  
Upon Misty's suggestion (and any comments on how she may have come across such   
information were threatened with fates worse than death), Ash's 'breasts' were   
water balloons filled with pudding. "They have the most natural feel," she claimed.   
He didn't know to disagree, and both refused Brock's offer to try them out, so   
that's what was decided on. Where the heck they got pudding on such short notice   
from was a mystery to him. A waste of good dessert, in his opinion. Anyway, they'd   
been stuffed into his (itchy!) bra and Ash had done his best to ignore their   
existence. However, his brain churned, water balloons weren't the most structurally   
sound items in the world. If his boobs started leaking...  
  
"YAAAH!" he yelled, shoving Richie off and running from the room. After checking   
that the hall was clear, he pulled up his shirt, checking for leaks.  
  
"Hey, you okay?" Gary asked from behind him, way too much mirth in his voice. Ash   
nearly jumped out of his skin (again), dropping his hands out of his shirt.  
  
"Don't -do- that," Ash accused, noting thankfully that his hands were chocolate-  
free.  
  
"That was an interesting show. I think you'll be keeping Richie awake for weeks,"   
he commented with a pleasant smile.  
  
"Please don't talk about that," Ash said miserably, pulling at his blouse.  
  
"He's just seen the motherland; gone where no Richie's ever gone before. He'll   
never be the same."  
  
"I think I'm going to be ill," he said, stumbling towards the elevators. Gary   
slouched beside him, laughing. Why did he like this guy again?  
  
"How 'bout we hit the dance after this? It'll do you good."  
  
Ash paused, blinking for clarification. "You want to go to the dance? With me?"  
  
"Unless you'd rather go with Richie," Gary said innocently. "I'm sure at this point   
he'd be more than willing."  
  
Ash grimaced, giving Gary a scathing look. "Let's go then," he bit, stabbing at the   
button for the elevator. His companion just chuckled. The ride down to the lobby   
was in a companionable silence; Ash had nothing to say, and Gary volunteered   
nothing, but he assumed they were all right. At least they weren't fighting. He was   
so confused...  
  
"Hey, Ashley," Gary said seriously, putting a hand on his opposite shoulder. "Don't   
get too freaked out by anything so far. I've been having an interesting time, and I   
hope you have as well. Let's see what the rest of the night will bring, eh?"  
  
Ash nodded mutely, at once confused by the statement and achingly curious as to   
what the rest of the evening -would- bring. Then Gary squeezed his shoulder   
reassuringly, and he allowed himself a slight flush. Maybe... well, he said he   
wouldn't 'what if', but, maybe...  
  
The elevator opened onto the lobby, and they stepped out, Gary dropping his   
shoulder, but still walking close enough beside him as to just barely brush arms.   
On impulse, Ash grabbed Gary's hand. After a second's hesitation, he closed his   
fingers over Ash's. And so they walked to the dance.  
  
Ash really didn't know that he'd made any progress with Gary at all... but he was   
still convinced that he wanted to.  
  
+ + +  
  
tbc.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
[notes]  
  
+ the part that will never end... So, I guess there's going to be six chapters   
now... blarg.  
+ I told you there'd (finally) be some Gary. Gary in leather no less. Too much J-  
Rock for Erin, perhaps? Hey, be happy I didn't give him the red vinyl outfit I saw   
on some boy band on TV the other day... that'd just be horrifying. (God, they   
couldn't sing.)  
+ Poor Richie... *snicker*  
+ Yay, I didn't destroy my prereader! Thanks to eRN56! You rock! There's only   
myself to blame for the horrible OOCness tho, which is even more pronounced now   
than in the draft... *sigh*  
+ Okay, I lied about the Pokemon noodle commercial... I forget how it goes. They   
look really scary, anyway; who wants to eat Pichu-shaped fish cakes?  
  
[next]  
  
So it looks like next week's (japn) Pokemon is going to have a confrontation with   
the people who stole the evil green thing and shot it's mom in a graphic angstily   
symbolic scene out of some other anime that it irks me I can't place. Apparently   
the mom isn't dead, so maybe they'll return it because I should think Pikachu would   
be angry it isn't the love of Satoshi's life anymore, or at least Bayleef would try   
to kick its ass. I mean, howcome Takeshi doesn't get an animal to carry around?   
Satoshi has -two-, and who doesn't benefit from hearing more Ueda Yuuji? Really,   
they should just write all those others out of the show, and just have Team Rocket   
and Brock wander around, maybe with Pikachu guesting from time to time. They could   
call it the Brock Show. Like the Brak show, but not. Hey, -I-'d watch it...  
  
[...er... next 'driving']  
  
Aheh-heh-heh... sorry, got a little carried away. Um, dancing, Gary, oblique   
eldershipping references, hot nekkid Brock action. Okay, not that last. (*snif*) 


	5. do you crash?

Yes, Lucy, finally.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
Insults, being hit and hit on, and a near-constant level of stress. What better   
continuation of an evening of such fun than hitting the dance floor? At least, that   
was what Gary wanted to know; Ash still felt kinda weirded out after being more-or-  
less felt-up by Richie.  
  
"I mean, it's really kinda nasty when you think about it," he told Gary. "I feel   
dirty."  
  
His companion gave a mock pout. "So you don't want to dance with me?"  
  
Well... that was a different question.  
  
"Wow," Ash said, a bit daunted as they made it to the entrance. "It's like a real   
dance club." Granted, going clubbing was rather low on the pokemon trainer's usual   
list of priorities so he really didn't have much to compare it with, but he imagined   
that the DJ and the packed dance floor counted as close enough. Maybe he should have   
gone with Misty and Brock when he'd had the chance... could've been good practice.  
  
"Yeah," Gary said, nonplussed. "Something like that. Let's dance," he grinned, his   
smirk now almost endearing. Before Ash had a chance to ponder whether he liked that   
or not, there was no time to think about it, as Gary quickly pulled him onto the   
dance floor. Ash was immediately struck with a feeling of awe-- the flashing lights,   
throbbing beat, and strange animated visuals projected on a screen served to take   
him to another world. He could feel the beat, move with it, feel the music around   
him, inside him, the most delicate of embraces. And he couldn't help but express   
this love through actions, and he danced with an intensity he'd never felt before.  
  
A lull in the music; he felt eyes upon him. "Gary?"  
  
The older teen had a slightly horrified expression on his face. "What the hell are   
you doing?"  
  
"Um, dancing?"  
  
Gary sighed.  
  
+ + +  
  
driving on the right  
by erin ellis  
five: do you crash?  
  
+ + +  
  
"You don't like my dancing?" Ash felt more disappointed than defensive. "What's   
wrong with it?"  
  
Gary gave a pained look, biting back his true remark. "I didn't -say- it was bad or   
anything... it's very... unique. And uncommon. Hey, how about I show you a few   
steps?"  
  
"Oh... okay," Ash said, somewhat uncertain. He'd thought he was really getting into   
the groove and whatnot. The music abruptly changed to a slower song, and the floor   
quickly cleared to leave couples.  
  
"This'll be easier for you... basically, all you do is stand and sway."  
  
"Sounds doable," Ash chirped, a slight catch in his voice. Gently, Gary lifted Ash's   
hands to rest on his shoulders, and left his own on Ash's hips (did he really have   
hips? Misty was so dead). Ash followed Gary's lead, swaying roughly to the beat and   
alternately gazing into and desperately avoiding his gaze.  
  
His lips were curved upwards the next time Ash dared look at them, his expression   
pleasant. "You're not half bad."  
  
"Really? I guess it's pretty easy," he said.  
  
"I guess you have a good teacher," Gary gently chided.  
  
"If you say so," Ash replied, sticking out his tongue. But he still turned, resting   
his head against Gary's chest. Even though he looked calm as always, his heart   
seemed to be thumping as quickly as Ash's. Ash decided to let himself believe that   
he was the reason for such, and hoped that the song would never end.  
  
+ + +  
  
"So, how's the ambiguously gay duo over there doing?"  
  
"Well, Ash and Gary are still going at it--" Brock broke off as Misty started to   
choke. "Dancing, I mean. They're still dancing."  
  
"Maybe you should clarify those things beforehand," the redhead hacked, face pale.  
  
"Don't worry, I wouldn't let anything go on in our room, at least not until I could   
get video feeds set up to sell to your little yaoi-fiend friends."  
  
Misty opened her mouth then closed it. "I don't even know what to say to that." So   
she hit him instead.  
  
"Okay, okay, you can have fifty percent of net profits, ow!"  
  
"Sixty-five, of gross. Ash being gay is making me insecure in my femininity," she   
deadpanned.  
  
"Here is where I -could- say something rather nasty, but I won't."  
  
"I see you value your life," she said upbeatly. Richie approached the pair, looking   
downtrodden. "Hey, Richie, what's wrong?"  
  
"Um, er, hi, Misty, do are you howing?" he stammered, flushing wildly.  
  
"I'm... fine," she replied, looking a bit pained.  
  
"What's up with you?" Brock asked, patting the boy on the shoulder. "You look like   
you've lost your best friend."  
  
"Oh, well-- It's a bit... personal," he said, chewing on his bottom lip. His gaze   
flicked from the dance floor to Misty.  
  
Brock pursed his lips. "Well, why don't you just tell me and Uncle Brock'll make it   
all better?" Richie didn't even make a reaction to the jibe, though Misty made a   
bunch of faces at him as Richie whispered into his ear. Brock did his best not to   
crack a smile.  
  
"So... I'm sorry," Richie finished, looking sheepish.  
  
"Don't worry about it. You know that's Ash, right?" he said, forking his thumb at   
the dancing couple.  
  
"...huh?"  
  
Misty's face was akin to the cat who ate the canary. "A bit surprised at Ash's...   
after-hours pursuits?" she smirked, draping herself around his shoulders. "Those are   
my favorite hairclips," the redhead pointed out, voice distant.  
  
"You can't help but be a bit proud of him though. He took to those heels like a fish   
to water," Brock said, patting them both on the shoulder.  
  
"Are... are you drunk?" Richie asked, concerned.  
  
"Not yet. You?"  
  
Richie chewed his lip for a bit, then threw up his hands. "Let's do something," he   
grinned.  
  
"Told you he wasn't just a goody-goody," Brock said, following them to the dance   
floor.  
  
+ + +  
  
Despite any previous comments or opinions, dancing really wasn't that bad. By this   
point in the night, the DJ was playing a good mix of fast and slow songs, though it   
was the slower tracks that Ash found more satisfying. Partially, this was because he   
was better at the dancing, and the other part was rather obvious. He'd seen several   
of his friends and acquaintances on the floor, and everyone seemed to be having an   
good time. Duplica had even given him a thumbs up as she danced by. Actually, they   
might have to talk later...  
  
"Hey, there's Professor O..." Ash noted, remembering too late their earlier   
conversation. "And with him-- Oh crap, that's m--" Crud, was Ashley even allowed to   
know who it was? But it was still freaky as anything to see his mother slow dancing   
with Professor Oak.  
  
"I know," Gary said, angling them away from the older couple. "It happens quite   
often, you know. If you'd been around Indigo more often, you'd probably've noticed."  
  
"Oh..." Ash didn't know what to think about this. Mom had been keeping secrets from   
him, that wasn't cool. And wasn't the professor like five bazillion years old?   
...Danced well enough though. Better than Ash, though that didn't take much.   
Actually, they looked pretty good together.  
  
"Maybe it won't be too bad," Ash murmured. "Ketchums and Oaks seem to go pretty good   
together."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Gary said sharply.  
  
"What makes you not?"  
  
Gary looked back up, out to the dance floor, avoiding his eyes. "Ash Ketchum is my   
rival. You spend time trying to avoid rivals, or beat them, not become closer to   
them."  
  
Ash really hoped he wasn't going to mess things up as he began to speak. "Then, why   
not stop being rivals?"  
  
"It just doesn't work that way," he said, impatient.  
  
"Well, why not?" Ash persisted. Everything would just be so much easier if they   
didn't have to compete... then... maybe... he could make him...  
  
"Ashley," he began, dropping Ash's shoulders and fingering his pendant. "We've been   
rivals for a long time. Some things never change."  
  
"That doesn't mean that they shouldn't... or that they can't. Isn't it hard to hate   
someone for so long? Isn't it just tiring?" He was so tired. It had to be so for   
Gary too.  
  
"Maybe... that's all I have. Maybe the only thing going for me; the definition of   
Gary is just Ash's rival. So then, I make peace, and he doesn't. I'm left with   
nothing, not even an enemy." He was looking away, voice bitter and small. "You   
probably don't understand that either."  
  
"Oh... Oh Gary." How incredibly, heartbreakingly wrong he was! Ash looked downwards,   
carefully considering each word. "Sometimes... it's really hard to take that first   
step. And you need to be brave, and do something that might seem kinda stupid. You   
can't hold on to things like pride, or little annoyances... because maybe that other   
person is just waiting for you, just like you're waiting for him. And then you start   
to wonder... how much time do you lose, have you wasted, trying to beat him? What do   
you win, anyway?" He realized he was speaking in his own voice, not the slightly   
higher tones 'Ashley' had used, but he didn't care. He stared insistently into   
Gary's face, but it was dark, unreadable. "Such an obsession with the word 'loser'   
and we're trapped in a stupid standoff for years!"  
  
Gary stopped, eyes onyx pebbles. "And so the only solution is for me to give up? So   
that you can have your victory? Just so that you can finally beat me? Is -that- what   
this is all about, Ash?"  
  
"What?" They could have put Ash's picture as the definition of 'confused' in the   
dictionary. Gary knew he was him-- but that wasn't even the problem. Victory? Give   
up? "No, you've got it all wrong. We need to--"  
  
"No, -you- need to just stop this. You know, if I tried, I could almost think that   
was the real you. And if I let myself, I'd wish it was. That's what you wanted to   
hear, now isn't it? So tell me: what's the punchline, Ash? This has been one   
elaborate scheme, but I'm sick of it. Let's get this over with."  
  
What? "You... you think I was playing with you?" Ash's voice was rising, and with it   
all rational thought went out the window. -He- was the one taking the risk, -he- was   
the one more-or-less baring his feelings, and if he so happened to be doing so in   
drag under an assumed identity, what was the difference? Gary didn't have the-- the   
-right- to be angry with him! "You stupid jerk!" Ash finally gave in to the   
temptation he'd fought on and off since he was ten, and punched him across the face.  
  
Gary refused to look at him; he actually hadn't turned back from where Ash had hit   
him. Whatever. If he was going to be like that, Ash didn't care -what- he looked at;   
he was leaving. The fact that the world was becoming a little blurry had nothing to   
do with it. Or the fact that the whole dance floor seemed to be looking at them...  
  
Ash whirled on his heel and stalked out, anywhere but there. Faintly he felt someone   
grab at his arm, tell him to wait. He shook it away, breaking-- well, not -quite-   
into a run, but something pretty close.  
  
Oh God. He was so angry, so humiliated, so betrayed-- both by Gary, but moreso by   
himself. There had been a reason they'd stopped being friends so long ago. Ash   
growled bitterly, something that only by coincidence sounded like a sob. He should   
have known; even in matters of the heart, Gary would never let him win.  
  
+ + +  
  
So the night hadn't worked out for some ridiculous reason -- in this case, because   
his date was Ash Ketchum, his rival, didn't he always attract the winners -- just   
another chapter in the oh-so-exciting comedy of errors that was Gary Oak's Life. Oh,   
he so loved being him. --Well, he did, actually, though sometimes it really didn't   
seem worth it. Like when your rival gets the best of you -again-, and you're left   
behind to face the crowd as the guilty party. Vultures. It wasn't like they expected   
anything different from him. Look! It's Gary Oak, rich kid bad-boy! Watch him act   
unfeeling and snort disaffectedly! How amusing! Let's point and whisper and laugh at   
his misfortune! ...Stupid sheep.  
  
And oh, look, here comes his equally if not more high-profile grandfather to fuss   
and make a huge scene! You couldn't pay for better entertainment than this! Annoying   
old fart, sticking his nose in other people's business. Well, it probably had more   
to do with Gramps than he thought, if he was doing what Gary thought he was doing   
with a certain single mother of a certain driven pokemon trainer who wore heels   
surprisingly well.  
  
Anyway, Gary quickly slouched out of the room before the old man had a chance to   
catch up. His hand rose unconsciously to his bruised cheek, feeling at the tender   
flesh there. What a jerk. Punching him in the face when he -knew- he had a panel   
tomorrow. And it wasn't like he could just blame it all on Ketchum either without   
having to answer a bunch of questions he didn't feel like answering to himself, much   
less for the sheep. He probably planned that as well, the loser.  
  
Of course, for some reason, it felt like he--  
  
Gary scowled. He needed a cigarette.  
  
He found one in his pocket and a place to smoke it outside; even though it was a   
nastily humid night, it was better than being in there, with the mindless drones,   
all dancing and touching and being with each other. Here he could be alone and   
think.  
  
"You don't even deserve him," a strident voice said, disgusted, coupled with a yank   
at his shoulder.  
  
Oh, he forgot, 'alone' was for people who wanted friends. Mark up one more time it   
Sucked To Be Gary. He wrinkled his nose, allowing himself to be turned around. Oh   
joy, it was the shorter and only slightly more feminine half of the Ketchum Fan   
Club.  
  
"I dunno, I deserve a lot of things," he drawled, tone of voice calculated to   
infuriate.  
  
"Yeah, and most of them are bad," Misty snapped. "You know that Ash isn't smart   
enough to try to fool you, and isn't tasteless enough to consider this a joke. Why   
do you think he even did all this?"  
  
Gary gave a dismissive shrug. "Why is the sky blue? Why do birds fly and fish swim?   
Why are you talking to me? Some things are just mysteries to us all."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Quit being an ass for once. Honestly, I don't give a damn what   
you do. But there's a kid out there who does. He's heartbroken because of you. He's   
one of my best friends in the whole world. And if I can't get to sleep because he's   
snivelling over you all night, believe me, you're going to regret it."  
  
Gary decided she wasn't as amusing as previously thought as the grip on his shoulder   
tightened sharply. Too bad he didn't hit girls. He settled for exhaling smoke in her   
face and stubbing out the remains of his cigarette against the wall as she withdrew.   
"Go away, Misty," he said tiredly. "I can ruin my life without your help." ...That   
wasn't what he'd meant to say. Not to her.  
  
Before he had to deal with it, he was saved by Richie, of all people. "Misty, you'd   
better come quick," he yelled, running from the building. "Brock did something and I   
think one of your sisters is gonna kill him and yes, that is a bad thing!" He   
recieved a brief but scathing look for his troubles, but held firm, only quaking a   
little with fear.  
  
Ignoring her summons, Misty stared at Gary with something more than just rage or   
natural bitchiness or whatever it was that usually powered her. And much as he was   
loathe to admit it, Gary felt uncomfortable, like a bug pinned to a board by her   
gaze. Then she whirled, almost knocking over Richie on her way back to the hotel.  
  
He stared at her retreating back for a while after she'd gone, lost in thought.   
Suddenly he shook his head violently, to clear it. It didn't matter. It hadn't   
worked out, the end. That didn't matter either. She was just trying to mess with his   
head. And succeeding.  
  
It was still in his pocket. It'd be so easy...  
  
He shook his head again. He needed another cigarette.  
  
Today was -really- not a good day to be Gary.  
  
+ + +  
  
Dang it. Dang it! "Dang it!" Ash yelled, kicking the room door. Much as expected   
(though one never knew), the door did not open, nor did a key magically appear. To   
cap off a night of one surpremely horrible thing after another, his room key had   
disappeared. He'd gone back through everywhere he and G-- he had been throughout the   
night (and believe it, it had been pretty darned difficult to find someone who would   
answer Richie's door). Nothing.  
  
It was too much. Everything was just too much. His foot hurt from kicking the door   
(and other various things as he'd wandered around), and his knuckles hurt from   
smashing them into a certain someone's horribly smug though utterly attractive   
mouth. (Hopefully he knocked loose some teeth. That'd finally have something going   
right today.) Plus, the underwire in his bra had started digging into his side if he   
shifted the wrong way, and he couldn't figure out whether or not they'd let him into   
the guys' bathroom to fix it.  
  
Then he yelped as someone clapped him on the shoulder; he swore he'd been startled   
more times in the past few hours than in his entire life. And now, he was most   
decidedly not in the mood. He turned, whirling an elbow towards his attacker.  
  
"Awfully violent tonight, aren't we?" Ah, the familiar, horribly nasal, wonderful,   
hated voice. He held Ash's elbow away from where it would have crunched into his   
midsection... something else tonight that hadn't worked out.  
  
"What are you doing here? I get the point that you hate me, so leave me alone." He   
pulled his arm but was not released; rather Gary pulled him closer.  
  
"I've been doing a lot of thinking, looking for you."  
  
"Me too, and I claim temporary insanity," Ash shot. "How about we never speak of   
this night again? There's been more than enough horrible events tonight for everyone   
I know to hold over my head for the rest of my life." Ash tried wresting his arm   
away again, and Gary's grip tightened.  
  
His voice was low, thoughtful. "You told me something about taking a first step,   
letting go of pride. That... that wasn't an instruction for -me-, was it."  
  
Ash's struggles abruptly ceased. "It was for us. But that was then, so now--"  
  
"Where am I supposed to step to?" Ash looked sharply at him; Gary looked defensive   
and penitent at the same time. "I've got a lot of pride, so it takes a little longer   
to let go of. But maybe I can take the second step, if not the first." He reached   
for his shoulder, and Ash shrank back. "What?"  
  
"What do you mean, 'what'? You've been hot and cold all night. First you're hitting   
on me, then you're telling me I'm stupid. You open up, then insult me. At first, I   
thought it was better than the usual insult-fest that I get from you, but now I'm   
not so sure. At least with insults I know where I stand. Please--" He broke off as   
his voice betrayed him. He had nothing more to say anyway.  
  
There was no more need for Gary to restrain him; Ash stood limply, staring at the   
ground, yet Gary did not release his grip on his arms, though it was looser, softer.  
  
"Ash," he said, voice oddly tender. "Your mascara's running."  
  
"Is it?" Ash sniffled. "I don't even know what mascara is. I'm-- this is all so   
ridiculous," he said, gesturing around him. "I just-- just-- tonight-- But it   
doesn't matter, does it."  
  
Gary fidgeted, thumbs smoothing the fabric of Ash's sweater. "I-- hell, if I said I   
never meant to hurt you, that'd be a lie. But-- I guess I didn't figure you'd   
actually..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair and starting again. "As I   
said, I did a lot of thinking about why you'd do this, and why I'd let you."  
  
"Let--" Ash looked up from his sniffling. "You knew?!"  
  
"Come on, like you really thought you were that great an actress. I knew the whole   
time. It'd be easier for you to hide from your own mother." Considering the Mr. Mime   
incident, Ash decided to withhold comment on that relative difficulty.  
  
"I can't believe you knew and didn't tell me," he said, sore. But his indignance   
took a backseat to a more pressing realization. "If you knew, then why did you say--   
Why did you do--"  
  
"I wasn't sure what you wanted," the taller boy continued, looking ahead, over him,   
ignoring his words. "I thought-- maybe you'd found me out. I've-- watched you for a   
long time, Ash. But now -- finally -- I think I figured out why you did it, " he   
said faintly, eyes now boring into his own.  
  
Ash gulped, halted, frozen, entranced by those midnight eyes. "Um... oh?" Suddenly   
he was quite aware of the distance that was not between them; of the feel of Gary's   
hands strong on his waist (when had that happened?), of the effort needed to   
remember to draw breath when he could just stand here like this forever. If only--  
  
And Gary dipped forward, the entire time his eyes on Ash for his reaction. It was a   
chaste kiss, just barely brushing the lips. It was unexpected in the way all things   
too good to be true are granted, and Ash opened his mouth in surprise. The auburn-  
haired teen kissed him again, more seriously this time, and Ash felt his eyes   
lidding. This was different than how he'd imagined, and yet so much better. He could   
have never imagined that Gary's lips would be so soft, his hands could be so gentle.   
He tasted of cigarettes and salsa, and something else indescribably but unmistakably   
Gary. Ash sighed at the feeling, and fumblingly returned the kiss, hands tentatively   
placed against his chest.  
  
At length (though not quite long enough in Ash's opinion), Gary pulled away. "Maybe   
that's why... correct me if I'm wrong," Gary breathed, taking a slight step back.  
  
"Ah... ah..." Ash shook his head, breathless.  
  
He smiled, more friendly than smug. "I thought as much. And now, I think it's time   
for all good crossdressers to go to bed," he said, voice uncharacteristically low   
and rough. "The panel's pretty early tomorrow, and Pallet is far away."  
  
Panel? ...oh yeah, the panel! "Y-yeah. But... what do you mean 'Pallet'? Why not   
just stay here?"  
  
"I don't have a room. I wasn't planning on staying this late. Gramps is probably...   
asleep by now."  
  
Ash suddenly remembered Professor Oak saying something about Sharing, Room, and Mom.   
"I see..." he said, doing his best not to. "Hey, why don't you spend the night with   
us? There's plenty of room, and the others won't-- augh..."  
  
"Need this?" Gary taunted, waving a small piece of plastic in front of his face.  
  
"My key!" He grabbed it and placed it in the lock. "How'd you get this?" Ash   
accused.  
  
"I took it before you ran off."  
  
"What? Hey..."  
  
"I rather like how things worked out, don't you?" he said, rather high-handedly.  
  
"Yup! Now, I'll definitely look better than you on the panel, since that you've got   
that nasty bruise," Ash commented in the same flippant tone. He shot Gary a grin   
over his shoulder, where he was muttering to himself about how he'd figured as much.   
He opened the door. "Guys?"  
  
Gathered on the other bed were Brock, Misty, and Richie, tangled together in various   
states of undress. Misty was snoring the loudest, Ash thought.  
  
"Looks like we missed the party, not that I would have wanted to see any of it,"   
Gary said brightly. Ash blinked a couple times, then smiled, grabbing the camera   
from the dresser. Revenge was sweet.  
  
+ + +  
  
And they slept, for their panel was early tomorrow. They had to share a bed, but   
neither really seemed to mind.  
  
+ + +  
  
tbc.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
[notes]  
  
+ To be honest, I only like like three lines in this chapter. Find them! And...   
uh... maybe you'll like them too.  
+ Even though I hate doing so, I switched POVs here, probably to poor effect. The   
first was because I can't resist bad puns (Ace and Gary? come on!), but the second   
is because I suck, and the part sucks, because I want to write Angsty Gary, which   
doesn't work so well in romantic comedy (comedic romance? random crap? whatever).   
So... uh... sorry.  
+ ugh... love scene... ugh...  
+ I feel obliged to put in some public service announcement discouraging the use of   
alcohol to enhance one's fanboy-dancing experience, but that could just be because   
I'm getting old. Besides, you could end up with Richie in your bed. Okay, maybe that   
doesn't necessarily discourage... (but it should! :P)  
+ So, actually one of the reasons this is so late is because of Lucy; she sent me   
this link to a story that does this same pairing and more-or-less the same plot just   
a lot better, so I lost what little confidence in this story I actually had. And, in   
a past version of author's notes I had put in the link to give to you. But now I   
forget what it is or who writes it... it's not at ff.net, but I'm pretty sure it's   
archived at Punk Shishi (which I don't have a link for either; I'm on a roll of   
suckage today). It's just one chapter and it involves wings. So, go read it! It's so   
much better than this story. But I'm still happy you're here. (hey, why'd you think   
I put the link way down here?)  
  
[next]  
  
There is one more chapter. And while I've been saying that for three or four   
chapters now, there really is only one more chapter, that should conclude all three   
requirements of this story being a Sappy Shishi Fanfic. (yay) Ash and Gary decide   
whether or not a kiss is just a kiss. Misty has a scene where she isn't incredibly   
swoll. Brock returns (okay, he was in this chapter, but NOT ENOUGH!) And Richie   
might get some. But he probably won't. 


	6. only for him

For the first time in what seemed a long time, Ash's consciousness came to him   
slowly and comfortably... maybe because he hadn't dreamt of anything. He felt warm   
and safe, snuggled into the cradle of blankets, arms and skin, the faint scent of   
smoke and hair gel.  
  
"Hey, Ash," a low voice called into his ear. He reluctantly let out a short moan,   
hoping whoever it was would leave him to sleep. Despite that hope, he came a little   
closer to actual wakefulness, remembering he was at the con, remembering he had to   
share a bed, really hoping that he wasn't sharing it so intimately with Brock   
(again).  
  
"Ashy-boy," the voice called again, a little more insistent.  
  
Well, at least it wasn't Brock. But it meant that-- It meant it was -him-. And -he-   
was still here. Which meant that now, maybe...  
  
"Ash!" he hissed with a shake. His eyes popped open.  
  
"G-gary..." Ash began, a bit of amazement on his face.  
  
"How nice to grace us with your waking presence," Gary remarked snidely. "Much as   
you may need your beauty sleep, we need to be at the panel in fifteen minutes, and   
you could really use a shower."  
  
"Augh," Ash cried, grabbing his clothes and running to the bathroom. So much for   
the perfect morning. How could he be late for his very own panel? Well, he knew   
exactly how, but come on. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror, bleary-eyed   
with a toothbrush dangling from his mouth. Didn't he deserve a break? A reward for   
putting up with the stress of the last few weeks... heck, the stress of the last   
thirty-six hours? Just a nice little nap, only five minutes, really, it'd be so   
easy to just close his eyes and just... catch up... a little...  
  
*Knock Knock*  
  
What? What? He wasn't doing anything wrong! He wasn't sleeping, really! He was   
getting in the shower right now! Hear the water running?  
  
Ooh, that was cold. He was certainly awake now.  
  
Ash shivered, at least knowing there'd be no temptation to linger in the shower.   
His thoughts turned to the events that had caused him to not wake up in the first   
place. Last night had been nice. Really weird, but nice. And then he'd fought with   
Gary... that wasn't so cool.   
  
*THUMP THUMP* "Better hurry up in there before -somebody- gets tired of waiting for   
losers who oversleep and goes to the panel by himself!" came nasally through the   
door.  
  
Yeah... not cool. But then they'd talked some more. And then, after that... That   
had been... nice. He felt himself slightly dazed and blushing, even in the coldest   
shower ever with somebody banging on the door for him to hurry up. Such a happy   
time... It seemed so much like a dream...  
  
*WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!* "If you don't get out of that bathroom in the next fifteen   
seconds, I'm going to rip out your intestines, wind them up, paint on a Pokemon   
League symbol and make you wear them as a fricking -hat-!"  
  
Especially now...  
  
"That's pretty harsh, Misty... I like it."  
  
And people wondered why he never wanted to wake up.  
  
+ + +  
  
driving on the right  
by erin ellis  
six: only for him  
  
+ + +  
  
In the end, they were only a little bit late; there was still plenty of time to   
meet everyone because true to con form, the panel before theirs was running late as   
well. AJ and his sandslash looked great; Richie seemed in good spirits, though he   
and Ash didn't exchange more than pleasantries, possibly (read: entirely) due to   
the happenings of the previous night; and Chantal, the new girl, seemed really   
nice. She actually reminded him of himself as a trainer starting out; eager,   
friendly, and a little overwhelmed. She was only thirteen, but had already placed   
in the Johto, Orange, and Canuck leagues. Even Gary looked somewhat impressed at   
that. Otherwise, preparations were set, and then it was showtime.  
  
+ + +  
  
"Great panel, eh guys?" Gary grinned. He was answered by several scathing looks.  
  
Ash approached him stiffly. "Can I have a word with you? Now?" Gary shrugged and   
altogether looked way too placid as he followed him a couple paces away from the   
group. Now, Ash considered himself a flexible person; he could deal with a certain   
amount of uncertainty and confusion in his day-to-day life; but when he took the   
time to come up with a plan, and dressed up in a silly outfit and wore painful   
shoes to carry said plan out, it irked him -- just a little -- when things and   
people seemed to go against it. And so far, today was not going according to plan   
at all. --Well, to be honest, the plan hadn't covered much past 'go with Gary to   
the dance in drag', which really gave little insight on what to do if he made up   
with Gary, much less made -out- with Gary... at least, not without some concrete   
action by the other party, all of which to date seemed to go against Ash's   
understanding of the previous night. By this point, the best-case scenario had   
involved Gary waxing poetic about raven hair and alabaster skin, while the worst   
case involved a fierce pokemon battle with neither Pikachu nor his official Pokemon   
League hat. Since real life didn't seem like it was going towards the former, Ash   
wondered why he hadn't instigated something more akin to the latter. And he really   
hated thinking about why he was doing (or not doing) something. So he told Gary so.  
  
"You want me to talk about your alabaster skin? You should probably start using   
sunblock for that," he said, poking a finger into the tanned flesh of his chest   
just above the top button of his camp shirt.  
  
"Don't touch me," Ash glared, certain parts of him wishing quite the opposite.  
  
Gary blinked, looking slightly annoyed. "Geez... what crawled up your ass and   
died?"  
  
"Wha-- you even have to ask?" His hands and mouth worked disjointedly for a bit.   
"You're unbelievable," Ash said, shaking his head.  
  
"Yes, many of my achievements are inexplicable by normal means, but there is no   
magic at work... I'm just that good."  
  
"No!" Ash exploded. "You're an unbelievable jerk! How could you be so horrible to   
me and everyone on the panel today? I didn't even do anything to profek-- prevo--   
to make you mad!"  
  
His companion began to look steamed. "What the hell'd I even do that was so wrong?"  
  
+ + +  
  
Gary hadn't walked in with him, having let his longer strides take him into the   
room before Ash. Ash tugged on his hat and sent a troubled look after him, but was   
cornered by Chantal before he could follow. The new girl introduced herself,   
greeting him with a friendly smile. "Ash Ketchum, eh? I've heard of you," she said   
with a slight French accent. "You were one of the youngest entrants to place in the   
Indigo League."  
  
"Oh well, you know... Richie over there did better than I did," Ash had demurred,   
thumbing towards where the other boy was not -quite- not avoiding him.  
  
"And humble as well. I like that. Tell me, what did you think when you were going   
to Indigo for the first time?"  
  
"Well, I--"  
  
"Chantal, was it? Don't listen to -this- loser. Ashy-boy may be all right when it   
comes to making nice with pokemon, but if you want to talk about winning badges,   
you'd better talk to me."  
  
Ash had had to bodily prevent Pikachu from shocking Gary for that comment, and even   
then he seriously considered it for a moment. (It probably would've blown out the   
building's electricity, which always seemed to cause a big hassle and tended to   
attract the police).  
  
+ + +  
  
"You're mad at that? I even complimented you on your pokemon."  
  
"Well, if that's a compliment, I'd hate to hear an insult!" Ash retorted.  
  
"Okay, fine, fine, you didn't like me talking about your training skills," Gary   
said, throwing up his hands. "Next time, I just won't talk about you at all."  
  
"-Next- time? What about -this- time, where practically every other word out of   
your mouth was some sort of insult to me or my pokemon?"  
  
Gary waved airily, making a sound of dismissal. "Don't flatter yourself. There were   
plenty of insults to the others and their pokemon as well."  
  
"That's... that's no excuse," Ash returned. "It wasn't supposed to be like this   
now. I thought--"  
  
"What -did- you think?" the taller boy said, voice hard.  
  
"I thought things would be-- Well, after last night, I figured it'd be okay to at   
least act civil to each other in public. I guess I'm not worth even that much to   
you."  
  
"What the hell, Ash? You think that just because we kissed once I'm going to roll   
over and give you the title of Pokemon Master?" He shook his head, nostrils   
flaring. "I'll do you the honor of recognizing to your face that you've got a great   
talent. But I've worked too hard and too long to give up now, no matter how much--"   
He broke off abruptly, eyes flickering away and hand stealing to his pendant. "Just   
forget it," he bit.  
  
Ash just stood there, stunned, as Gary turned and stalked off. What... what? Huh?   
When had he ever asked Gary to give up? ...Well, for real?  
  
And then Ash scowled, starting after the teen before realizing he was already out   
of sight. He couldn't just leave. Ash wasn't done being angry at him yet! "That   
little--"  
  
"Lovers' spat?" Misty said, voice this side of nasty. "Your boyfriend seemed in   
rare form today."  
  
"Don't call him that!" Ash snapped. "He's not my boyfriend!" Perhaps that was more   
disappointed than angry.  
  
"He's not? You seemed pretty close this morning, and the rest of the time you   
bicker like an old married couple."  
  
"You could say the same about you two," Brock pointed out, approaching.  
  
"Could, but won't," she said, an edge of ice in her voice. "I'm just saying, if you   
two -aren't- going out, something pretty sketch is going on."  
  
"Sketch? Hey, I never did -anything- with Tracey. That's all lies," Ash cried,   
throwing up his hands.  
  
The redhead stared, then grimaced, repressing a shudder. "If you weren't so stupid,   
I'd think you planted these images in my head intentionally. I have to go be sick   
now, so please smack yourself upside the head in my absence." Looking rather   
greenish, she excused herself, Brock laughing at her quick retreat.  
  
"I -didn't- do anything with Tracey... I told you then, those sketches were planted   
by Team Rocket," Ash sulked.  
  
"I know, I know," Brock said placatingly. "Tracey showed me the real ones. She   
meant that it doesn't seem like you two had things as sorted out as we figured you   
did this morning... Relationship with Gary still a little in flux?"  
  
"No, I don't do that on the first date," he said somewhat archly.  
  
The darker teen flickered annoyance. "Ash, I meant that you hadn't figured out what   
you're doing with Gary yet, and that's why you've been so uptight today."  
  
"Oh-- right. I knew that. ...Right." Ash ran a hand through his hair, glad for the   
lack of ponytails. "I don't understand him. I'm not even mad anymore-- not really.   
Just--"  
  
"Confused?"  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"Lucky guess," Brock explained, sounding way too innocent for Ash's own good.   
"Don't worry. Just give him some time-- he needs to cool off, and you can figure   
things out."  
  
Ash hmmed mopily. "I guess there'll be plenty of time... maybe I'll see him at   
Christmas..."  
  
"And maybe you'll see him sooner," Brock winked (no, really) enigmatically. "Oh   
come on, like your Mom is going to let him go without saying goodbye to everyone."  
  
"If you say so," he said doubtfully. Mom could be pretty forceful if she wanted to,   
but Ash wasn't seeing why she'd make any effort to talk to Gary.  
  
"Besides, last night Misty and Richie slashed his tires. Even if he tries to leave   
now, he won't get far."  
  
Ash blinked. "Richie?"  
  
"Yeah. He's really good with a knife." Brock sounded -way- too much like this was a   
normal occurrence. "I -told- you he wasn't just a goody-goody."  
  
He didn't know what to think about that at all.  
  
+ + +  
  
Ash did know what to think about his mother, however. Mom was the best. Gaining the   
title as the first thing to actually look up in the day, she held a barbeque at the   
park nearby as a post-con celebration. It was a great surprise-- and great food   
too. Really, nothing made one feel better like freshly grilled meat. It smelled   
good, tasted good, and made a great peace offering to people you'd spent the past   
couple days making a fool of yourself to. And while Ash felt usage of the word   
'fool' with Gary at least was a little strong (well, he'd used it to –reference-   
Gary in a few sentiments, but...), he still figured they could make peace.  
  
...At least they could but for the lack of an important party involved. Mom and   
Professor Oak swore Gary was at the park -somewhere-, but Ash was having no luck in   
finding him. After the third time of asking if they were absolutely, positively   
sure Gary was around (he'd gotten a decidedly strange look this time and had to   
convince Mom he didn't want to fight him before running off), he sat heavily at a   
picnic table where Pikachu and Togepi had decided to guard the food.  
  
"Hey, Pikachu. I haven't seen you much. I guess you've been off having fun?"  
  
The little animal turned from its ketchup, giving it a last longing look before   
addressing him. "Pi pi kachu," it burbled.  
  
"Yeah," Ash said, not even making a guess at what that meant. "I'm afraid I didn't   
do so well. I think I did some stupid stuff to people I care about."  
  
"Pikapi pikachu," it chirped, an almost knowing expression over its furry face.  
  
"Toge toge," Togepi agreed, tossing potato chips into the air with glee.  
  
"There it is... oh!" Richie looked distinctly uncomfortable, taking off his cap and   
worrying its brim. "Uh... hey, Ash. I was just checking on Togepi for Misty."  
  
"Hi." A nudge from Pikachu, and he pushed forward a platter of chicken and   
hamburgers. "Er, hungry?"  
  
"I've already made a plate, thanks."  
  
Another nudge. "So... uh..."  
  
"Yeah. About last night..."  
  
"Yeah... er..."  
  
"...Right. You know."  
  
They looked away, then turned to each other, cracking identical smiles.  
  
+ + +  
  
That's why Ash liked Richie... he knew how to talk like a man. He'd asked about his   
prowess with a knife, to which Richie had smiled, laughed, and immediately fled.  
  
Misty had been almost as easy to make up with-- they understood each other just as   
well, even if they couldn't realize it most of the time.  
  
+ + +  
  
"Huh? Why can't you talk to me right here?" Misty asked, looking away from where   
she was divvying up chicken pieces with Richie.  
  
Well, maybe they didn't understand each other that well after all.  
  
"Because, it's sort of..." His eyes flickered to Richie. Good friend or not, Ash   
didn't want any more people to hear this than necessary.  
  
"Oh God," Misty sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Richie, get some chips."  
  
"There are some right here," he said, pointing at the plate where indeed, a good   
portion of salt and vinegar chips sat.  
  
"Get some -more-," she said, dangerously narrowing her eyes. "And check on Togepi.   
...Please," she added, a jarringly angelic smile gracing her features. Ash almost   
choked; Richie flushed and ducked away.  
  
"That... was frightening," Ash commented.  
  
"What?" Misty asked, back to a wary look.  
  
"You know, maybe you should be a little nicer to him... he's like a sensitive guy,   
with feelings and stuff."  
  
"Please," she said haughtily. "I am so incredibly nicer to him than you could ever   
imagine."  
  
Ash paused, feeling a little green. "I'm not sure I want to..."  
  
"Not like -that-, you pervert!" she said, smacking him on the arm. "Well... maybe a   
little."  
  
Ash really didn't think she'd needed to cackle -that- much. "And you talk to -me-   
about things you don't want to imagine..."  
  
"You can't see a dorky kid like him with a beautiful and talented woman like me?"   
she said wryly.  
  
"Well, I -could-, but I like Richie better than that," Ash returned.  
  
"You also seem to like tempting death," she said, setting her plate on the picnic   
table and cracking her knuckles.  
  
Ash backed up, hands raised. "No, no, that's not fair. I gave you a gift, you can't   
hit me yet. It was really good, too. I bet you didn't even open it."  
  
"I did," she yelled, digging through her bag and eventually producing a crumpled   
box. "See? I'll open it right now!" Misty defiantly ripped the box open and   
instantly her foul mood dissolved. "Oh... it's beautiful," she breathed. It was a   
blown glass sculpture of a dratini cresting a wave. It was incredibly life-like,   
and reminded him of the sculptures done by that crystal onix guy they'd met in   
Johto.  
  
"Yeah... Richie picked it out; said something about how it suited you. But it was   
my idea to get you something! I guess what I mean is, I'm sorry about earlier."  
  
"Oh Ash, don't worry about it." She squeezed his hand, giving him a smile. Then she   
turned back to the knickknack, turning it in her hands to catch the light better.  
  
About this time, Richie returned with hands full of chips and soda. "Hey," he   
called, not quite hiding the confusion in his voice. "How's it going?"  
  
"Better, now that you're here," Misty said, voice dripping with... uh... something   
that Ash couldn't quite figure out and decided he didn't want to. Richie,   
predictably, did his best beet impression and stuttered a bit. "It's just so much   
fun making him do that," Misty smirked, giving Ash's hand a squeeze before rescuing   
foodstuffs from Richie's.  
  
+ + +  
  
Two down... and no sign of Gary. Mom had gotten to where she would just   
periodically shake her head in his direction, and Misty told him that his pacing   
was making her nervous so he'd better sit still and be quiet before she got mad at   
him again. Pikachu seemed to be in the same mood; they'd run out of ketchup and it   
seemed to be taking it personally. Brock would listen to Ash's worries, but would   
add on a desire for May, where could she possibly be?  
  
Then she walked up.  
  
"Hey there, squirt!" May waved. "Hi guys."  
  
"Hi, May. Er... where's your brother?" Well... Ash had never been much at small   
talk.  
  
She gave a dry smile, looking much like her younger sibling for a moment. "He's   
sulking over there," May said, pointing in the direction she'd come from. "I'll   
warn you, I don't think he's in the mood for a pokemon battle."  
  
"Oh, that's okay, me neither," Ash replied automatically. May looked at him as if   
she expected him to say something else. "Oh-- er, thanks. Thanks a lot."  
  
"No prob, squirt. Knock 'im dead!" she cheered, punching him lightly on the   
shoulder, then she walked off with Brock towards the grill.  
  
"Uh... huh?" Ash said eventually, a strange gnawing feeling growing in his stomach   
as he realized that talking to Gary would work out better if he knew what to say.  
  
"It means you should quit being such a wimp and go talk to him!" Misty replied.   
"You guys are such the stupidest people on the entire planet!"  
  
Knowing the value of well-given advice (as well as Misty's propensity for   
violence), Ash gathered his spirits and jumbled thoughts and some Frescas and   
completely lost all of them as he tripped down the slight embankment, tumbled, and   
skidded to a stop beside a familiar auburn-haired figure. Gary was lying back   
against the grass, legs crossed, one arm bent over his eyes to block the sun.  
  
"What?" Gary grunted, not moving.  
  
"Uh... I brought you a soda," Ash offered, sitting up and brushing some of the   
grass out of his hair. There was silence and the dark-haired boy leaned forward,   
leaning his arms on his drawn-up knees. "Er... what's up?"  
  
"Some delinquent idiots slashed my tires. You wouldn't know anything about that,   
would you?" Gary finally lifted the arm over his face, turning to give him an evil   
eye.  
  
"N-no," he said, feeling awful. "I don't even know what your car looks like." At   
least that was the truth.  
  
He narrowed his eyes and snorted, balancing on his elbows. "May helped me get my   
car to the shop, but dragged me here in the meantime, so until my car is finished,   
I'm trapped here with -you- losers. I don't even know why you want to-- Why I'd   
want to talk to you anyway. Why don't you just go?" Gary turned away, his hands   
twitched and he reached for a cigarette. Ash stopped his hand before he could light   
up.  
  
"You don't have to do this. We don't have to do this." And Ash realized he did know   
what he wanted to say. "You know, we don't have to be enemies to be rivals."  
  
Gary gave him a look like he'd grown a second head. "What?"  
  
"No, really," Ash argued. "Me and Richie... we're rivals, I guess. We both want to   
be Pokemon Masters and win the Indigo League. But we're still friends. We help each   
other, and so once one of us wins, we both have succeeded."  
  
"What about when he wins and you don't? What happens when you're left behind as the   
loser?" he said darkly. "What about when all your effort is for nothing and you're   
alone?"  
  
Ash bit his lip. "He isn't like that. I know because it's happened. And neither am   
I. You don't have to knock someone else down to get yourself up. If there's   
anything I've learned over the past few years following you, it's that. It's easy   
to help people, and even if you aren't thinking of yourself second, thinking of   
yourself at the same time as other people can really pay off."  
  
Gary was silent for the longest of moments. They looked at each other, and Ash was   
suddenly aware that he still had hold of Gary's lighter. And Gary's lighter was   
still in Gary's hand. Quickly, they grabbed their hands back, looking guiltily at   
the other.  
  
Ash spoke quickly to cover his embarrassment. "I don't have a problem with being   
your rival. But I don't want-- You -know- I don't want to be your enemy. But... I   
guess it's up to you."  
  
Gary gave a searching look, then turned away, looking straight ahead. He went for a   
cigarette, and this time Ash didn't stop him. It was silent but for the sounds of   
breathing and smoking, farther away garbled conversations and children and pokemon   
playing. Almost sighing, Ash moved to get up, but was stayed by a hand on his leg.   
"Ash." He stubbed out his cigarette, tugging on Ash's pant leg to sit. Ash did, and   
Gary continued, looking straight ahead.  
  
"Look. I'm Gary Oak. I'm an asshole. I enjoy being an asshole. I am good at what I   
do, and I know it, and I think others should know it as well. I enjoy pissing   
people off, because it makes them think. I like it when people make me think as   
well. Ash..." Here his cocky tone seemed to soften. "You've made me think. Not just   
about how you could look so cute as a girl when you're such a big loser," (here, he   
stuck out his tongue) "but... about everything. For a long time. How do I train my   
pokemon, and why. Why do I battle. What am I trying to prove, and to who." He   
looked Ash in the eye, locking his midnight gaze. "It's you. Hell, why didn't I   
start my pokemon journey until I was eleven? It was because you wouldn't be able to   
go, and then who was I supposed to measure myself against? Who was supposed to   
challenge me? Who was supposed to surpass me?  
  
"I wasn't lying to you this morning. But I wasn't lying last night either." He   
brushed his hand through his hair, more to do something with his hands than to   
affect the position of the auburn spikes. "So, that's how it is, take it or leave   
it."  
  
Ash scratched his head. "So... you want someone to beat you in a pokemon battle?"  
  
Gary facefaulted. "No," he cried, "I want someone to challenge me, in life, in   
everything, who's not going to expect me to be sticky-sweet all the time, or to put   
aside my dreams for them. As much as it pains me to admit it, I want -you-... I'll   
take you, if you'll take me. You do your part, and I'll do mine." He crossed his   
arms, and Ash did the same.  
  
The dark-haired boy gave a hard look, considering. But really, he already know the   
answer. "Well... maybe if you stop calling me 'loser'. It's real annoying."  
  
He arched an eyebrow. "You haven't beaten me yet. I don't know that you've earned   
the title of non-loser."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Ash tossed a pokeball at the teen's chest. "Get in."  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"Think about what you just said, dork. You want me. So, I've captured you. I win."  
  
Gary opened his mouth, then shut it, giving a wry grin. "Guess we're both losers   
now."  
  
"Or both winners."  
  
"Maybe." Gary popped open the pokeball and placed it on his head. "Happy now?"  
  
"I caught Gary!" Ash grinned, going into his victory pose.  
  
"Gary, gar," the teen deadpanned. They exchanged a look, and then dissolved into   
laughter.  
  
Eventually the laughter subsided, and someone had to think of something to say.   
They kept a pleasant silence for a while, exchanging little glances to see who   
would speak and just to look at each other.  
  
"So then, what now?"  
  
Ash shrugged. He had never been much on planning ahead. "I guess... um... take a   
break. Then, maybe start training again. There's always more leagues to compete   
in!"  
  
"I meant for us, not your pokemon," Gary said.  
  
"So did I," he returned, a bit offended.  
  
Now Gary's expression changed, the look in his eyes changing to a different type of   
catty. "Well, what sort of 'training' did you have in mind?"  
  
"Oh, maybe something with fighting types," he said practically, "it's been a real   
long time since I've had one, and--" He stopped, interrupted by Gary's face in   
close proximity to his own.  
  
"What about training with -my- type?" Gary said, eyes hooded and somehow sounding   
more sincere than when Brock gave lines in the same vein. His auburn spikes hung   
low, almost brushing against Ash's face, framing Gary's own. "There are some perks   
to having this 'friendly rivalry' you speak of, aren't there?" He caressed Ash's   
face with his hand and Ash turned into the contact before he even consciously   
thought about it.  
  
"You want-- here? With all these people?"  
  
"I want now. With you and me." And he kissed him, and the majority of Ash's   
protests melted away.  
  
+ + +  
  
Mom and Professor Oak hadn't given -too- disbelieving a look when Ash'd told them   
he'd go back with Gary (Gary said it was because the adults were happy to get some   
private time), though he got plenty of smirks from Brock and Misty's direction.   
After the formality of an offer to take the others to Pallet (refused, of course),   
the adults wandered off, making Gary promise not to get into too much trouble, and   
Ash promise to change his he-knew-whats. Brock tried (to Gary's dismay) to get a   
ride with May; failing that (to Gary and Misty's combined satisfaction) he invited   
the others to spend the night in Pewter, advertising a bunch of room since many of   
his siblings had gone out on Pokemon journeys. After a way too questionable pause   
where Ash felt he was being sized up, Misty and Richie smiled and agreed. Promising   
to call later and invite Tracey and asking them both to come as soon as they could,   
they all said their goodbyes and left as well.  
  
In the end, there isn't much to say about the ending of a con. It's a bit anti-  
climactic if the convention is one you've been looking forward to for a long time;   
you just pack up and leave before you get stuck cleaning things up. Gary said   
something along the lines of he'd be damned before he helped the suits before he   
was one of them, so they walked to the tire place and got started back to Pallet.   
Save the brand new shiny tires, Gary's car was surprisingly non-flashy; just a   
late-model white station wagon. It was even missing a hubcap.  
  
"We must crawl before we learn to walk," Gary quipped.  
  
"Professor Oak wouldn't buy you a nice car, would he," Ash said, realization   
dawning.  
  
"Shut up, l-- dork."  
  
But it was just friendly grumbling, and they still held hands as they drove down   
the highway, and still kissed at the really long red light. And later, as they   
snuggled together on the couch, Gary did murmur into his ear:  
  
"I guess Oaks and Ketchums -do- go well together."  
  
Ash just smiled.  
  
+ + +  
  
And they lived happily ever after... or close enough thereto.  
  
the end.  
  
+ + +  
+ + +  
  
  
Oh, is that sappy or is that sappy? I think all the requirements have been   
fulfilled... Happy Graduation, Lucy! (and think, it's only been five months...)  
  
eme 20.oct.02 


End file.
